


An Evil Spell My Life

by puss_nd_boots



Category: BUCK-TICK, X JAPAN, the GazettE
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sabrina the Teenage Witch Fusion, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 04:53:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18844030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puss_nd_boots/pseuds/puss_nd_boots
Summary: Uruha is a half-warlock, half-human caught between two worlds – and being pressured to make a decision to commit to one or the other for good. His life is thrown into further turmoil when he meets the man of his dreams – but can even the power of love stand up against the Dark Lord?





	An Evil Spell My Life

**Author's Note:**

> My May fill for the monthly challenge at vkyaoi, using Moodboard 6 (Classic Horror) and the following quote: “The ominous surrounds a constant change/The broken darkness defeats me” (from The GazettE’s song Ominous). This fic is ALL the fault of GazettE’s stylists – when I attended their show at Playstation Theater in New York and saw Uruha’s platinum blond bob in the flesh, all I could think, over and over, was, “He looks like Really Hot Genderswitched Netflix Sabrina.” This story was the result. The GazettE is property of Sony, I own the story only. This fanfic is largely based on the TV show Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, created by Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa and property of Netflix and Archie Comics. There is also one plot point drawn from the Broadway musical Wicked, written by Stephen Schwartz and Winnie Holzman, and scenes based on The GazettE’s PVs for Inside Beast and Dogma (with some liberties taken for story purposes). Title from GazettE’s song Dawn. This fic is purely dark urban fantasy and is not intended to represent the actual beliefs and practices of any group or religion – the vast majority of people who identify as witches in the real world are NOT Satanists.

The first time they met, it was at an apothecary shop.

The place was one that sold various kinds of incenses and essential oils, both for people just looking to scent their homes and for those wanting to use them in some sort of hobby, like candle or soap making. Kai, however, had come there for another purpose.

His eyes scanned the shelves and shelves of strangely labeled bottles. He knew what he wanted to look for – he just was having a hard time finding it in all those feverfews and belladonnas and St. John’s Worts . . .

And then, a voice behind the counter said, cheerfully, “Looking for something in particular?"

Kai blinked. There stood the most gorgeous creature he’d ever seen in his life – tall, with short blond hair framing his face. Intense eyes, shapely lips. He could be a model. Part of him wanted to answer, “Yes, I’m looking for you.”

Instead, he said, “Peppermint oil . . . I need . . . I need peppermint oil.” And he was having trouble getting the words out. The sight of this man was frying his brain.

“How much?” said the beauty behind the counter. “What are you using it for?”

Kai rubbed the back of his head and squeezed his eyes shut, embarrassed. “Well, it seems my apartment has a stubborn case of mice, and I’ve heard that gets rid of them . . .”

“Mice, you say?”

“Um, yes.” Kai added, quickly, “It’s not that I’m dirty! Quite the opposite! I’m a chef, so everything has to be clean!”

The beautiful creature walked back to the shelf, took down one of the large bottles, and poured out a generous vial. “Here you go,” he said. “Soak cotton balls in this and put them around wherever you see traces of mice.”

Kai bowed. “Thank you,” he said. “Do you own this place, by the way?” He didn’t want to leave this store. He didn’t want to leave his presence. He just wanted to stare at this gorgeous guy . . . well, forever.

“My uncles do,” the other man said. “I just help out from time to time.” He capped the bottle and put it in a bag. “It’s something to do while I’m waiting for my real career to take off.”

“What’s that?”

“Writing. I’ve got three self-published novels – which have sold about three copies.” He rang up the order and gave a total.

“Four,” Kai said as he handed over the money. “You just sold one to me, too. I just need to know your name so I can look your books up on Amazon.”

The other man leaned on the counter. “Is this a come-on?” he said.

“Um . . . um . . .” Kai said.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” the counterman said. He paused. “Takashima Uruha.”

Kai blinked. “Excuse me?”

“My name. Takashima Uruha.”

Kai’s face suddenly broke out in a huge smile. “That’s . . . a lovey name,” he said.

“And that’s a lovely smile,” Uruha said.

“Thanks!” Kai said, beaming even wider. “I’m Kai, by the way. Tanabe Kai.”

“Nice to meet you, Kai,” Uruha said. “Is this the part where you ask me what I’m doing after work?”

“Well . . . I . .”

“I have no plans,” Uruha said. “If you’re interested in going for a drink, then I am.”

Kai nearly fell face-first on the counter. “I . . . I . . . yes, I am!” He quickly pulled out his phone and pushed it toward the other man. “May I have your number, please?”

“If I can have yours.” Uruha pushed his phone toward him. Kai took it as if it were a sacred object.

“Thank you,” Kai said, quickly entering the numbers. “So . . . meet back here?”

“I’d rather meet at the bar,” Uruha said. “The Pickled Plum, on the corner. I’ll text you when I’m done – probably around six.”

“I’ll see you then!” Kai bowed low, and scurried off, nearly bouncing with happiness. He’d just come to get a solution to his mouse problem, and instead, he’d met the most gorgeous man he’d seen in eons . . .

One could say that Uruha was, well . . . enchanting.

* * *

Uruha watched the customer – no, his date for the evening, he was going to go out with this guy and the idea felt pretty damn good – walk out the door of the shop, and he gave him a little wave.

All I have to do is finish out this shift, he thought. Just a few more hours, and then . . .

“Dating a mortal?” said a voice from the corner. “Really, Uruha?”

Uruha sighed. “I didn’t see you.”

“Of course you didn’t see me.” The man walked toward the counter. “I was using a concealment spell. I wasn’t going to let all your customers know I was there, right?”

“They wouldn’t have looked at you,” Uruha said, starting to rearrange some of the bottles.

“Yes, they would have,” the other man said. “People look at me, they can’t help it.”

“So why were you SPYING on me, Aoi?” Uruha said. Okay, he was getting sick of doing this by hand. Time to do it the easy way. He glanced around the store, made sure no prying eyes were looking in . . .

Then, he snapped his fingers. A group of bottles rearranged themselves on the shelf.

“Just wondering if you’re aware that the BIG birthday is coming up,” Aoi said.

Uruha groaned, putting his elbows on the counter and his face in his hands. “Not that again,” he said.

“You can’t run away from it,” Aoi said. “Not anymore. You’ve run away from it every year. Your running time is expiring.”

“You keep reminding me of it,” Uruha said. “And if YOU don’t, Ruki does.”

“Hey, we’re both concerned about you,” Aoi said. “We have been ever since we were in school, you know.”

“I know,” Uruha said, tersely.

“We just want to see you fulfill who you’re supposed to be, that’s all,” Aoi said. “You’re powerful. Damn powerful. More than someone who’s a, well . . .”

“Half-mortal, half-warlock,” Uruha said. “You CAN say it out loud, you know. I’m not going to bite your head off for it.”

“I wasn’t gonna say it without your permission,” Aoi said. “I know you’re supposed to keep that detail secret. Anyway, you beat me at spellworking all the time back in the day, you know. And that’s saying a lot, given that I’m a superstar.”

Uruha rolled his eyes. This was typical Aoi. Of course, he’d been like this since their days at the Dogmatic Academy of the Dark Arts. He should be used to this by now.

“But Uruha . . . I don’t want to see you lose your powers. I know you’re torn between the mortal and the witch worlds. I know you have mortal friends – like the guy with the rag over his nose . . .”

“Reita,” Uruha said. “His name is Reita, and he’s been my friend longer than you have. I met him when I was seven years old, back when . . .”

“You were just attending a mortal school?” Aoi said.

Uruha looked down at the counter, swiping at it. “I was very happy there, you know,” he mumbled.

“But Uruha . . . you don’t like mortals enough to BECOME one, do you? Because if you put off what needs to be done any longer . . .”

The door of the shop banged open. There stood a small man, head covered by a black knitted cap, eyes covered by sunglasses, dog leash in his hand.

“Are you fucking trying to talk him into it AGAIN, Aoi?” he said.

“Hey, he’s going to give in to my matchless charm,” Aoi said.

“Forget it. You’ve tried a billion times already. Maybe it’s time I did.”

“Hello to you, too, Ruki,” Uruha said, dryly.

“Look, Uruha, if you’re being stubborn about this again, you’re gonna pay,” Ruki said, jabbing a finger at him. “We’re planning the ceremony for the night of your birthday. If it’s not completed by midnight, you lose your powers. It’s the way it’s been done for centuries. You DO know you’re the only person in our graduating class who hasn’t done it, right?”

As if to emphasize his words, the small dog next to him yipped and jumped up and down. Uruha just shook his head.

“Your familiar is a bit overexcitable,” he said.

“That’s because Koron agrees with me,” Ruki said. “Even HE senses what’s happening with you, Uruha. You’re on the verge of losing it all.”

“Wait . . . you’re involved in planning the ceremony?” Aoi said.

“Well, yes,” Ruki said. “I AM an anointed priest, you know.”

“Whoa,” Aoi said. “I’m impressed! Planning a major ritual? I mean, you’re still a novice, right?”

“Fuck you, I’m second degree now!” Ruki said. “Maybe if you paid attention to something other than your mirror, you’d know that!”

Uruha slipped off into a quiet corner of the counter, rubbing his temples. Maybe if the two of them got into arguing about Ruki’s priestly status, they’d lay off him for awhile.

He knew damn well what his situation was. He was unique among the community of witches and warlocks. His mother had been human, his father, a powerful warlock . . . high priest of a coven, in fact.

They’d both died when he was very small. He’d been raised by Uncle Yoshiki and Uncle Atsushi – both of whom were very insistent he be a warlock, and only a warlock.

But he couldn’t. He was very aware of his human side. And he LIKED humans. He loved their lives, their culture . . . he was ONE of them, as much as he was part of the dark magical community. Of course, he loved his powers, also. He reveled in being a warlock sometimes, in being able to WILL something to happen and see it come to fruition.

It was that very dual nature that kept him from completing the ritual that Aoi and Ruki were nagging him about. And nagging him. And nagging him.

For it had been written since ancient times that all witches and warlocks had to sign their name in the Book of Satan by the conclusion of their 25th year on earth. If they failed to do so . . . the Dark Lord would withdraw his magic from the person, and they would live as an ordinary human for the rest of their life.

I don’t want to be fully mortal, Uruha thought. I couldn’t live without my magic. But at the same time . . . I can’t sign my name, my heart, my soul away to the Dark Lord, either. I can’t be anyone’s slave . . . let alone an all-powerful being of darkness.

He’d put it off as long as he possibly could . . . but his 26th birthday was fast approaching. Mere weeks away, in fact.

His uncles were high-ranking members of Templi Malum. Ruki was a fast-rising junior priest of the group, and Aoi was a liturgical aide, usually dancing during the ceremonies. And none of them would let him forget that he hadn’t formally joined the group.

If only there was a way I could get around it, he thought. If only there was some deal I could strike with the Dark Lord that would allow me to keep both my powers and my soul . . .

But he knew that wasn’t going to happen. He’d had this discussion with Ruki already, in fact. His friend had said, “Are you fucking kidding me? The Dark Lord doesn’t make deals! What the fuck do you think he is, a real estate broker? No skirting the rules, Uruha. Even if you’re only a half-warlock.”

I have to go through with it, Uruha thought. I have to . . . unless I somehow can figure out SOME way out . . .

He was suddenly looking forward to the date with Kai more than ever. He needed a distraction, a reason not to think about all this.

* * *

Kai was sitting at the bar of the Pickled Plum when Uruha walked in. He sucked in his breath at the sight of the other man – Uruha was even more gorgeous than he remembered.

“Hi,” he said, standing up and bowing. “I’m so glad to see you!”

“Hi,” Uruha said, sitting next to Kai. “Am I on time?”

“Exactly,” Kai said.

“Wow,” Uruha said. “I’m kind of surprising myself with that. My on time record is kind of . . . spotty.” He leaned over to signal the bartender.”

“Are you a regular here?” Kai said.

“I’m not here every day,” Uruha said, “but I come here from time to time. To, well . . . people-watch. There’s a lot about mort- people that fascinates me.”

Well, that’s odd, Kai thought. What was he starting to say before he corrected himself? It almost sounded like “mortals.” But he figured that wasn’t important.

“I’m guessing you get ideas for your writing that way, right?”

“Well, yes,” Uruha said. “Observing people gives me a LOT of ideas. I think it’s one of the main reasons why I write, actually – because I like imagining their stories, then telling them.”

“Have you being doing it long?”

“Just a few years. I didn’t have time for it when I was in school. I was going to both a regular high school and, um, a specialty school at the same time.”

“Oh?” Kai said. “Like, a cram school?”

“Something like that.”

“I did the cram school thing, too,” Kai said. “I think my parents were disappointed when I decided I was going to culinary school instead of a four-year college, but it was the best decision I ever made. I love working with food.”

“What is it you love about it?” Uruha said.

“Mostly it’s that cooking a meal for someone is such an act of kindness,” Kai said. “You’re giving them nutrition to stay alive, and something pleasant that will brighten their day all at the same time. When I take raw ingredients and transform them into a dish, well . . . it’s almost a kind of magic, isn’t it? Mix things together in the right combination, and they become something else?”

Uruha tried very hard not to flinch when Kai mentioned magic. He didn’t want to be reminded of his current dilemma. “That’s a beautiful way to look at it,” he said. “It’s sort of food as art, isn’t it?”

“Yes, exactly,” Kai said. “It’s art, and it’s science, and it’s an act of love all at once. There’s nothing else like it, really.”

God, he’s incredible, Uruha thought. He’s just so . . . sweet. So good-hearted. So very . . . human. He represents humankind at its best.

“Are you working at a restaurant, then?”

“Not at the moment. I’m working in a test kitchen. I develop recipes with a certain company’s products, and then volunteers try them and share feedback on how they come out. I’ve gotten a couple of my recipes printed on the backs of bottles.” He sounded very proud of that.

“Congratulations,” Uruha said.

“I’m hoping to have my own restaurant someday, though,” Kai said. “My dream is to make it big as a chef, run my own restaurant for awhile, and then retire and write cookbooks.”

“Sounds like a very nice life,” Uruha said.

“What about you?” Kai said. “What is your dream?”

Freedom and power, Uruha thought. I want to have both . . . somehow. But he couldn’t very well tell Kai that.

“To make an impact,” Uruha said. “To do something that, well, changes things. That makes people look at old things in a new way.”

“You’re making me REALLY want to read your writing now, you know,” Kai said.

It’s not my writing, Uruha thought. My writing is, well, almost a hobby. It’s the magical world I want to make a difference in . . . to change it from within. But I can’t do that without signing the book, right?

“I’ll be glad to show it to you,” he said.

Kai raised his drink glass. “To living our best life,” he said.

Uruha clinked his against it. “Yes,” he said. “To living our best life.”

And may I figure out a way to do that, he thought.

* * *

Kai lived only a couple of blocks from the bar, so Uruha walked him home. “I had fun,” Uruha said. Indeed, he had – they’d talked about Kai’s life as a chef, Uruha’s writing, classic horror films, and what was the best liquor store in Tokyo.

Uruha felt good with him. He felt . . . normal. Like he didn’t have an enormous weight on his shoulders at all.

“I had fun, too,” Kai said. “Maybe we can do it again in the near future?”

“I’d love that,” Uruha said.

“Maybe we could go to Hanayashiki,” Kai said. “I haven’t been on the roller coaster there in years.”

“Yes!” Uruha said. “I used to go on that all the time when I was a kid!”

“It’s a date, then,” Kai said. He reached out, grasped Uruha’s hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it. “Good night,” he said.

“Good night,” Uruha said. He watched Kai go into the building, then paused, wondering if he’d be able to tell which apartment was his . . .

A couple of minutes later, he saw the lights go on in a third-floor window. Bingo, he thought. That’s it. He closed his eyes, stretching his magical senses toward the apartment. Yes, he could sense a foreign presence, an animal one . . .

His mind formed the archaic words and symbols that made up a simple banishment spell, and he reached out, snapping his fingers to manifest it.

“You’ll never be bothered by mice again,” he whispered.

He began humming happily, practically skipping down the street as he headed for home – when he heard a familiar voice saying, “Well, SOMEBODY had a good night.”

He turned toward the sound. “Hello, stranger,” he said.

“That any way to greet your best friend?” The figure stepped into the light of a streetlamp. Uruha saw the spiky blond hair, the well-muscled arms, and the strip of cloth he’d worn over his face ever since a car accident had left his nose heavily damaged.

“Well, I could say, ‘Yo, Reita, how’s it hanging,’ but that would be cliché,” Uruha said. “And, yes, I DID have a good night. I met a guy when I was manning the store today, and we went on a date.”

“No kidding,” Reita said. “So what’s he like?”

“Sunshine in a human being,” Uruha said. “The most adorable smile you’ve ever seen in your life. He’s a chef because he thinks food is an act of kindness. He loves old horror movies and cheesy old amusement parks. And, well . . . he’s the kind of person who just looks at you and you light up inside.”

“Well, damn,” Reita said. “You scored, all right. wish I could say my night was that interesting, I just had work.”

“Nobody interesting comes into the gym?” Uruha said.

“And wants me to train them? Hell, no. I mostly get salarymen trying to avoid having dad bodies.” Reita laughed. “I’m glad, though, because . . . can I be honest? You’ve seemed to have something on your mind lately.”

Crap, Uruha thought, am I that obvious? “It’s just family stuff,” he said.

“You sure it’s just that?”

Uruha nodded, vigorously. “My uncles . . . sometimes, I think they’re not really supportive of . . . what I want in life.”

It was the way he always talked about his witch-related problems with Reita – in the vaguest of terms. Because he wasn’t allowed to tell a mortal that he was a warlock – even if said mortal had been his best friend since elementary school.

“They’ll come around,” Reita said. “Lots of people think art-type stuff isn’t a REAL career. All you need to do is get one book to sell to a real publisher, and suddenly, they’ll be telling everyone how proud they are of you.”

I really wish my problems really WERE just about my writing career, Uruha thought. “You ever have . . . second thoughts about something? Like, you’re wondering if it’s really right for you?”

“Well, sure,” Reita said. “I think everyone has. Hell, I wondered for a long time whether I should be a trainer – whether I was really doing good things for my clients. I’d monitor their progress and obsess over every change in their muscle mass, and if they weren’t developing fast enough, I’d wonder if I was a failure. But you know? I stuck with it, because it FELT right. And if it feels right, you know it’s for you – no matter what anyone else says.”

“So . . . if you feel good doing something, and you know it’s for you . . .”

“Then it IS for you. If you love writing? Then fuck it, you keep writing. Don’t let family get you down, okay? It’s YOUR life in the end, not theirs.”

“Thanks,” Uruha said. “That’s . . . helpful.”

“Anytime. You KNOW I’m always here for you, right? And you can tell me anything, no matter how stupid you think it is.”

I wish I really COULD tell you everything, Uruha thought. “I know.”

“You sleep on what I said tonight, okay? And let me know how things are going with Mr. Wonderful.”

“Oh, I will,” Uruha said. “Talk to you later!”

He hurried off toward home. Do something if it feels right to you, he thought, because if it feels right, it IS right . . .

Magic certainly felt right to him. But . . . how right could it be if it came from the Prince of Darkness?

* * *

He arrived home to find his Uncle Atsushi sitting in the living room, a journal of the magical world open in front of him. The house seemed . . . quiet. Unusually quiet.

“Uncle Atsushi,” Uruha said, “where’s Uncle Yoshiki?”

The older man sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “He was being annoyingly stubborn,” he said. “So I killed him and buried him in the back yard.”

Uruha facepalmed. “AGAIN?” he said. “You two have GOT to find a different way of resolving your disputes.”

“He wouldn’t listen to reason. I had to get drastic.”

“So how long ago did this happen?”

“About six hours.”

“Which means that he should be back any . . .”

There was the sound of the back door opening, and heavy footsteps coming through the kitchen. A figure appeared in the doorway, dirt covering his clothes and hanging off his wavy brown hair. “That really wasn’t very nice, you know, my dear,” he said.

“You weren’t listening,” Uncle Atsushi grumbled.

“I was listening. And I told you, I didn’t like it. There’s got to be another way other than . . .”

“WHOA.” Uruha got between the two of them. “Let’s NOT escalate this, okay? You two have tested the limits of warlock immortality enough as it is. One of these days, the Dark Lord is going to get tired of your shenanigans and he’s NOT going to bring you back.”

“Don’t be silly,” Uncle Yoshiki said. “I have the utmost faith in him. I always have. And besides, we have the patch of Resurrection Soil in the back yard, remember.”

“Yes, and most of it seems to be all over you,” Uruha said. “Please, go get cleaned up.”

“The boy is right,” Uncle Atsushi said. “No more fighting. We have to do what is necessary. We have to get ready to administer the test to Uruha.”

“What test?” Uruha looked baffled.

“Atsushi, that’s what I was trying to tell you,” Yoshiki said. “Are we really sure Uruha is ready for . . .”

“He’s got three weeks until his deadline,” Uncle Atsushi said. “He HAS to be ready, because he IS going to sign that book!”

“First of all, I am NOT a boy anymore, I am a MAN,” Uruha said. “Second, it is MY decision whether to sign the book.”

“And you WILL decide to sign it,” Atsushi said.

Uncle Yoshiki waved his hand. “I’ll be right back,” he said, walking out of the room, leaving a trail of dirt clods behind him.

Uruha sighed, concentrated, and snapped, sending the magic dirt back to its patch in the back yard. “What is this test?” he said.

“The Elixir of Fate,” Uncle Atsushi said. “Everyone who is a candidate to sign the Dark Lord’s book drinks it. You end up having visions that point the way to the future.”

“And if the visions say there’s a way out of signing the book?” Uruha said.

“There is no way out,” Uncle Atsushi said. “You sign the book or you lose your powers. End of story. Your Uncle Yoshiki and I have been very lenient with you being involved in the mortal world – more lenient than I would have liked, but he said you had to explore that side of who you are, too. Fine. But the days for that dabbling are over, Uruha. You HAVE to commit to the Dark Lord in full.”

“But why?” Uruha said. “WHY do I have to commit to him to keep my powers?”

“Because he gave the powers to witches and warlocks in exchange for their service to him! You can’t give up something without expecting something in return. It’s how the world works – everything is balanced. Summer to winter, life to death, fire to water.”

“But still – to be a slave of the embodiment of evil . . .”

Uncle Atsushi groaned. “Uruha . . . we’ve been over this a billion times. Good and evil are MORTAL concepts. They have nothing to do with the witch world at all. Mortals have created the concept that the so-called sins lead people to corruption and ruin, when really – they’re what makes life satisfying and productive. Envy helps you get ahead of your rivals. Gluttony is the enjoyment of food and drink in a pleasant and relaxing moment. Sloth is renewal after working yourself to death. Wrath allows us to punish those who wrong us. Pride makes us feel good about our accomplishments. Greed helps us get ahead in business, and lust . . .”

Uruha put up a hand. “Say no more,” he said.

“But you’ve got to stop putting a mortal framework on everything,” Uncle Atsushi said. “You have to embrace who you really are – and that’s a powerful warlock.”

Uncle Yoshiki returned to the room, his clothes and hair magically cleaned. “Hello again,” he said. “Had to make sure I’d banished all the dirt.” He looked over at Atsushi. “You’re still giving him the elixir, aren’t you?”

“It’s the only way for him to see that this is his destiny,” Uncle Atsushi said.

“But if we talk to him more . . .”

“We’ve talked enough!” Atsushi said. “It’s time for action. You KNOW how serious this is.”

Uncle Yoshiki sighed. “I don’t want to fight with you again. Fine, we’ll try giving it to him. But if it goes wrong . . .”

“It won’t,” Uncle Atsushi said. He gestured to the biggest easy chair in the room. “Uruha, sit here. I’m going to give you a goblet, you’re going to drink it all as quickly as you can. And then . . . pay attention to any visions you have, and THINK about them.”

“Well . . . all right . . .”

“Whatever happens, we’ll be right here with you, dear,” Uncle Yoshiki said.

Uruha watched as Uncle Atsushi went to the fireplace and dipped a ladle in the kettle bubbling there. He poured an amber liquid into a pewter goblet engraved with archaic sigils, and brought it to the younger man.

“In the name of the Dark Lord,” Uncle Atsushi said, “accept this brew of visions.”

“You don’t have to be so formal in our own home,” Uncle Yoshiki murmured.

He was unheard by both Uncle Atshushi and Uruha, though. The younger man took the goblet, took a cautious sniff, then a swallow . . . it wasn’t a bad taste. Sort of like spiced honey. He tipped the glass upward and drank more, and more, and more . . .

And then, the room fell away, and everything went black.

His vision cleared, and he was in some sort of . . . a house? A mansion? And there was someone coming down the hallway . . .

It was Ruki. He wasn’t wearing his black priest robes, or his jeans-hoodie-and-sunglasses casual wear. No, he was dressed for his day job. Ruki was an assistant to a fashion photographer, and at work, he dressed in forward fashion.

This Ruki was in a red velvet suit, strutting like a model on a catwalk, hands on his hips. On either side of him were two little girls dressed in identical black dresses, pounding away on drums . . . as if they were leading a parade.

They vanished, and Uruha found himself faced with four doors. With heavy trepidation, he opened the first one, and saw . . .

It was Aoi. He was wearing a ruffled shirt, and dancing with a woman wearing a formal gown, with a carnival-type mask over her face – when suddenly, he pushed her away from him. She landed on a couch, and he suddenly rushed over to the wall, pounding it in frustration.

Uruha shut the door, quickly, and moved on to the next. It opened to reveal . . . Reita. Why is he here, Uruha thought, when he has nothing to do with the magical world . . .

Reita was lighting a piece of paper on fire from a candle – the same type that was used in Templi Malum’s rituals. Then, he was burning more paper, and more, and more . . . until he was lighting the door frame, trying to set the entire room on fire . . .

Uruha shut the door rapidly and opened the third, only to get a much greater shock. There before him was . . . Kai.

Why? He thought. Why him? I just met him today! It was him, all right . . . but he wasn’t the ray of sunshine he was before. Quite the opposite. He was dressed in black, with a stern look on his face, and . . . he had a cat o’nine tails in his hand. Furthermore, he was using it to whip a man who knelt before him, his face covered with a hood that bore a sigil built around an upright Christian cross.

Now Uruha was filled with anxiety and confusion – not to mention being strangely turned on at the sight of Kai wielding that whip. He slammed the door shut and pulled open the last one, only to be confronted by the sight of . . .

Himself. He saw himself sitting in a chair, surrounded by temple candles. His eyes were covered with a blindfold, his arms and legs were chained, and he seemed to be struggling to free himself. Indeed, the more he struggled, the more he seemed to be chained.

“No!” Uruha shouted to his double. “You can’t stay this way! You have to free yourself!” But his double just struggled all the more, and Uruha could only feel frustrated, and powerless, and hopeless . . .

He suddenly came to, and found himself curled in a fetal position on the floor, his head throbbing and spinning and filled with the visions, trying to figure out what it all meant . . .

Four people – two from the mortal world, two from the witch world – all in bizarre situations. And Uruha himself, chained and helpless . . .

“Uruha?” Uncle Yoshiki was saying from a million, billion miles away. “Uruha, please, say something!”

And Uruha found himself babbling. “I have a headache . . . I’m about to go crazy . . .” His mind was filled with his chained self again. Why, why was he seeing that? “Is this self-hate?” he said.

He felt nauseated, and scared, and right now he just wanted to tear out any trace of the Dark Lord inside him, to say to anyone or anyone who would listen, “Erase my dirty beast inside . . .”

Faintly, he could hear Uncle Yoshiki saying, “I told you we shouldn’t have done this!” And then, Uncle Atsushi replying, “This is normal! It means the visions were effective!”

Uruha managed to sit up, taking a deep breath. Have to pull myself out of it, he thought. Have to get myself back to normal . . .

“Uruha?” Uncle Atsushi said, in a strangely tender voice. “What did you see?”

“It . . . it was kind of . . . overwhelming.” He looked from one uncle to the other. “I think I need to go lie down in a quiet place and process it all.”

“Of course, dear,” Uncle Yoshiki said.

Uruha managed to scramble to his feet. If I can make it to bed, he thought, I’ll be fine . . .

Sure enough, he managed to get to his bedroom, and fell on his bed, where he passed out quickly into a mercifully dreamless sleep.

In the living room, after he left, Uncle Yoshiki said, “I don’t think it worked.”

“We don’t know what he saw,” Uncle Atsushi said. “Perhaps the Dark Lord sent him evidence that he needs to stop delaying and embrace his destiny.” He looked over at Uncle Yoshiki. “And you know as well as I do how important it is that he embrace it.”

“Yes,” Uncle Yoshiki said, softly. “I know. And we have to make sure he does, whatever it takes.”

The two older men fell silent, consumed by the gravity of the task ahead of them.

* * *

Uruha woke up the next morning with remnants of the headache of the night before, feeling a bit dizzy and disoriented.

What the hell was all that? he thought. The four rooms . . . Ruki and those kids . . . Reita and Kai showing up . . .

He quickly jumped out of bed and snapped his fingers, twirling around to make casual clothes appear on his body. His uncles were minding the store themselves today – which he was very grateful for. He needed quiet time.

Slipping out the back door, he headed down a familiar path away from their home. There was an old Christian graveyard not far from where they lived, where some of the first traders who had come to Japan were buried. Uruha found it a strangely serene place, and he went there whenever he needed comfort, no matter what the weather. He’d even gone there when it was covered in snow.

He approached the gravestones, sitting down next to one of them, then stretching out. Overhead, he could see a group of what appeared to be bats flying in formation.

It just adds to the ominous feeling, he thought. He closed his eyes, and in his own mind he could see his own hand reaching for one of the doorknobs, turning it, and opening it to reveal something . . . baffling.

If the Dark Lord is really trying to communicate with me, he thought, he needs to work on his delivery.

He raised his hand, snapped his fingers and made some leaves dance in the air above his head. The distraction wasn’t working. He couldn’t get it out of his mind . . .

And then, a voice above him said, “Kinda thought I’d find you here.”

Uruha looked up, to see Aoi leaning over him. Great, he thought. Just what I need right now – more hard-sell of signing Satan’s book, with a side of “So how come you’re dating a mortal?”

“You know me too well,” he said.

“Look, I know what you’re going through,” Aoi said, sitting next to him. “Really.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Uruha said. “You’re a pureblood warlock, remember.”

“Yeah, well that doesn’t mean I just swallowed all the Satan stuff hook, line and sinker, either. There was a time . . .” He looked around. “We’re alone, aren’t we?”

“Well, yeah, why?”

“Not gonna say this in front of Mr. Priest Ass. If Ruki heard this, he’d rip my head off and shove it back down my neck.” Aoi leaned back on his elbows. “There was a time, right after high school, that I wanted to be actor badly. Like, real badly. I was going to auditions for movies. I had bit parts on a couple of TV shows.”

Uruha looked surprised. “You never told me this,” he said.

“I kept it secret. Figured that people in the witch world wouldn’t exactly approve of my doing something so, well, mortal. But those bit parts . . . they made me realize what the life of lead actors was like. They live in a fishbowl. Their private life isn’t their own. So, yeah . . . I knew that if I became a public figure that I wouldn’t be able to live as a warlock. I’d get ratted out, and that would get REAL ugly. So I had to give it up. I finished my last bit part and told the temple I was ready for my Dark Baptism, and that was that.”

Uruha looked over at his friend. “I’m sorry, Aoi. You really had to give up something you loved, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, and it hurt. Sometimes I still wonder if I made the right decision. Except I like magic too much. It’s like a drug, you know?”

And then, the image from Uruha’s vision leapt into his mind. Aoi in a fancy costume, like an actor in a period drama, dancing with a masked woman, then pushing her away and reacting with anger and frustration . . .

The woman represents his acting career, he thought. I was seeing Aoi’s struggle over giving it up. The first piece of the puzzle fell into place – the Dark Lord was saying to him, “You’re not the first person to have had doubts and second thoughts.”

“Would you have given it up,” Uruha said, “if the coven was more accepting of, well, mortal things?”

“If they were willing to back me up? I would have stayed with it, a million percent,” Aoi said. “But you know how they are.”

I certainly do, Uruha thought. All or nothing. Maybe that’s one reason I’m feeling so antsy about this.

“So, yeah . . . it sucks going through something like this, but it’s worth it in the end. Because you know you’re doing what you’re born to do, right? You’re a warlock, you were meant to serve the Dark Lord.”

Am I? Uruha thought. Because I’m half-mortal, too . . .

“I guess I should thank you for coming to talk to me,” Uruha said.

“No thanks needed,” Aoi said. “Hey, question – you going out with that guy tonight?”

Here it comes, Uruha thought. The why-are-you-dating-a-mortal thing again. “No. No plans for tonight. I’m seeing him tomorrow.”

“Good. Then you can come with us to the Suicide Circus.”

Uruha opened his mouth to refuse – and then shut it again. The Suicide Circus was his favorite witch world nightclub, a place hidden from human eyes. It was a space for magical self-expression in all its forms.

He’d been going there since his teens. It wasn’t something that was easy for him to turn down.

Maybe a night out is what I need, he thought. Maybe it will stop me from obsessing over the rest of the vision, the different pieces of the puzzle . . .

“Okay,” he said. “Just let me know what time.”

“That’s the Uruha I know,” Aoi said. “I’m gonna be the hottest guy there, just warning you. Nobody will be able to resist me.”

“We’ll see about that!” Uruha replied.

He was going to enjoy tonight, dammit. And then, tomorrow, when he went to the amusement park with Kai, he was going to enjoy it even more. And then, maybe the visions would stay at bay.

* * *

Later that evening, Uruha stood before the mirror, ready to choose his look for the night.

He snapped his fingers and whirled in a circle. His outfit quickly mutated into a pair of black shorts, high black boots, a white shirt and a grey blazer.

“Not quite,” Uruha said. He snapped and whirled again, and he was wearing a black velvet jacket over a black tank top, a matching scarf around his neck. The shorts remained. All of his clubbing outfits were built around shorts, because he knew very well his thighs were his best anatomical feature.

“Maybe,” he said, snapping again, and this time, he had a red vest over a black top, with elbow-length black gloves. It was nice, but . . . he’d worn that the last time he was at the Suicide Circus, right?

A few more snaps and whirls, and he arrived at a shiny purple shirt with a matching vest and shorts, and purple covers over the bottom of his boots. He nodded approvingly at the mirror.

“Perfect,” he said. He gazed into the glass again, formulated a hair and makeup style that would match the outfit in his head, and snapped. The colors appeared on his face, his hair arranged itself accordingly.

I don’t know why I’m trying so hard, he thought. I’m not interested in attracting random would-be lovers tonight. There’s only one person I’m interested in like that right now, and it’s the guy I’m seeing tomorrow.

He glanced at the clock – he was going to be late at this rate. Well, then, he was going to take the fastest, most direct route. He opened his closet and pulled out a broom, the kind that looked like a storybook illustration – a bunch of straw gathered around a long stick and tied with rope.

“Let’s go,” he said, opening the window. He snapped one more time – a concealment spell to shield himself from mortal eyes – and leaped out, expertly hopping on the broom and soaring into the sky.

It was an exhilarating feeling, being high above the ground, birds flying past him – seemly unruffled at the sight of an airborne warlock. And he knew it was one he would miss terribly if he forfeited his powers and became a mortal.

Mortals, he thought, can fly only with the aid of an airplane. He didn’t know if he could live like that. But when the price of still being able to fly was his very soul . . .

He saw the building coming into view – to mortal eyes, an old and crumbling warehouse. He circled it, starting to come in for a landing.

Aoi was already waiting for him outside, wearing a sparkling silver vest over a back tank top and black jeans. “Not bad on the landing,” he said. “You didn’t even skip along the ground.”

“I HAVE been practicing, you know.” Uruha carried the broom to a rack near the door, hanging it up alongside quite a few others. “Has Ruki gotten here yet?”

“Mr. Peacock? No, he’s waiting until it’s late enough that he can make a PROPER entrance. He’s . . .”

“I fucking heard that, you know!” shouted a voice above their heads, as another broom soared into view, a small male figure astride it. He landed with a thump, hung his broom up and said, “There’s nothing wrong with looking your best.”

Aoi wasn’t kidding when he said Ruki was a peacock. Uruha was good at self-imaging magic, but Ruki had raised it to high art. He was wearing a gold-trimmed black jacket, flaring purple pants trimmed with bands of studded black leather . . . and a feather boa. An honest-to-Satan FEATHER BOA. He’d changed his hair color to a bright blond – he tended to go between black for rituals and blond for everyday life, with some frosted half-and-half looks from time to time. And he even had multi-colored marks next to his eyes that almost looked like the feathers of a bird.

“Nobody said there was anything wrong with it,” Aoi said. “Just that nobody’s going to look at anyone else in the room. Well, except me, of course.”

“Everything isn’t all about you,” Ruki said as they walked through the door of the club. Before them were a row of keys hanging from cords from the ceiling.

The keys were, of course, designed to keep mortals out. They opened the door to the club’s interior, and could only be retrieved by magic. Aoi and Uruha exchanged a knowing look – they’d leave this to Ruki. He was the Satanic priest among them, after all.

Ruki looked up at the keys, snapped, and said, “Domine abyssum.” A key jumped off the string and flew into his hand.

“Very nice,” Aoi said. “You’ve got style, I’ll say that.”

“I’d better have fucking style,” Ruki said. “Especially when they’ve asked me to . . .” He stopped, abruptly. “Never mind.”

“Whoa,” Uruha said. “Were you asked to take your third degree?” There were three degrees of priestly initiation in Templi Malum, and if you achieved the third degree, you were considered a full priest who could perform all rituals and ceremonies – and could, if the person so desired, form their own coven.

“No,” Ruki said. “Not yet.” He added, under his breath, “It might be easier if I did.”

Ruki unlocked the door, pushed it open, and let go of the key, which flew back to its place. They entered the room – which at first glance looked like any other nightclub, with the bars along the walls, flashing lights and throbbing music.

Then, you noticed the high-ceilinged area off to one side for “vertical dancing” – where witches and warlocks levitated into the air, floating and bouncing around. And the row of beds along one wall for hookups – followers of the Dark Lord had no qualms about fucking in front of everyone, with anyone they had a mutual attraction for.

“Well, look who’s here,” a man with long, curly hair said, walking over to Ruki’s group. “How are you doing, Mr. Priest?”

“Piss off, Byou,” Ruki said.

“Is that any way to say hi?” Byou said. “We’ve been friends for years, remember?”

“Yeah, and friends don’t make fun of friends for choosing to directly serve the Dark Lord. Every time I see you, you tease me about being a priest.”

“Maybe it’s because I’m proud of you,” Byou said.

“Hey, if you’re here, does that mean Kazuki’s here, too?” Aoi said, hope in his voice.

“Not yet,” Byou said. “He’ll be here later. And when he gets here, we’re not gonna see either of you for the rest of the night, right?”

“Maybe over there.” Aoi jerked his thumb toward the beds.

Uruha just shook his head. His friends and their love lives . . . Aoi clearly had feelings for Kazuki, his co-worker in a musical instruments store, even though he loudly claimed they were just friends with benefits. And it was screamingly obvious that Ruki liked Byou, and Byou returned the favor.

I’m so glad, Uruha thought, that I’m seeing Kai tomorrow. I have a good feeling about it. I mean, really, really good.

And then, that image appeared in his head, Kai in his vision, whipping the man with the black hood . . .

He had to drive it away. “I feel like vertical dancing!” he shouted, as if the volume of his voice would scare the vision out of his brain.

“I’m gonna join you, until Kazuki comes!” Aoi said, following Uruha over to the side area.

The two men walked into the flashing lights, held their hands over their heads, and double-snapped . . . and suddenly, they were rising into the air, slowly, like balloons leaving the ground.

“WHOO!” Aoi said. “This never gets old.”

“Never,” Uruha said. There were air currents buffeting all around him, and he rode them, letting them carry him from one side of the room to the other.

He began to dance to the music while suspended in air. He somersaulted to the beat, he twirled around, he flew loops around Aoi, who flew loops around him in turn. At one point, they brought their index fingers close to each other, and electric sparks jumped between them, causing both of them to laugh.

“So what are we gonna do about Ruki and Byou?” Uruha said.

“Double love potion?” Aoi said.

“Tried it,” Uruha said. “Ruki’s too savvy about that. He can taste a love potion in anything you give him – even if it’s that Orangina he drinks all the time.”

“Sneak an amulet into the hem of his priest robes?” Aoi said.

“That could work. Of course, I’d have to put another spell on it so he wouldn’t notice the unbalanced weight, and . . .” He sighed. “How do mortals manage to matchmake their friends without magic, anyway?”

“Well, what about that human friend of yours? Mr. Nose Rag? Has he fallen for anyone?”

“He hasn’t fallen head over heels for anyone yet. But if he does? I’ll slip the person he’s in love with a potion, no problem.”

He waited for Aoi to say, “And you can only do that if you’re still a warlock, you know.” And remind him once again that if he didn’t sign the Dark Lord’s book, he’d forfeit his powers. But Aoi remained silent. Instead, he few up toward the ceiling, snapped, and made fireworks appear above them. “HA!” he said. “Check this!”

“I can do bigger ones!” Uruha snapped, and sure enough, his fireworks were bigger and more elaborate than Aoi’s. He watched them explode overhead, a big smile on his face.

Reita said I should do what feels right, he thought. And this feels so very, very right. In fact, I don’t know what I’d do without magic in my life . . .

He knew, of course, that he might very well be finding out in the near future, if he didn’t sign himself away to the Dark Lord.

* * *

A bit later, Aoi came back down to the ground. Uruha had decided to stay up in the vertical dancing area a little longer.

He sighted Byou right away. “Is Kazuki . . .”

“He’s on his way,” Byou said. “He just texted.” For all their magical power, warlocks and witches, like the rest of the world, used smartphones to communicate with each other.

“Cool!” Aoi said – but a hand shot out, grabbed him and pulled him over to the side. He found himself face-to-face with Ruki.

“I have to tell you something,” Ruki said. “Before you disappear with Mr. Wonderful.”

“You could have your own Mr. Wonderful, too, if you admitted that you and Byou . . .”

“Never mind that!” Ruki snapped. “Mendes-sama asked me to officiate at Uruha’s Dark Baptism today.”

Mendes-sama was Templi Malum’s High Priest and Ruki’s direct boss. “Whoa,” Aoi said. “But you’re only . . .”

“A second-degree priest, right. I reminded him of it. I said that second degrees aren’t authorized to do that. And he told me he was giving me special dispensation. He said that Uruha was more likely to sign the book if the ceremony was led by someone he trusted.”

“Well, yeah, I can see that, but . . .”

“There’s something weird about this,” Ruki said. “Why the fuck do they want him to stay a full warlock so badly? I mean, he’s not even full-blooded! You and I want him to sign the book because we want him to stay with us, but . . . the higher-ups aren’t friends with him.”

“Maybe it’s his uncles,” Aoi said. “They rank pretty highly, don’t they? Maybe they requested you.”

“I don’t think it’s just about them,” Ruki said. “Something tells me it’s MORE. I’ve tried asking the Dark Lord himself, when I meditate, and he’s telling me nothing. Which just makes this MORE suspicious.”

“You’re being paranoid,” Aoi said. “I think it’s just the uncles. They’d be really embarrassed if Uruha defected, you know? They’re really traditional, and . . .” He suddenly spotted someone out of the corner of his eye. “OOOHH, YEAH,” he said. “Kazuki’s here!” He waved at Ruki. “Catch you later!”

Ruki just stood there, shaking his head. Aoi obviously wasn’t taking this seriously enough. Okay, maybe Ruki WAS being paranoid. But still . . . why couldn’t he shake the feeling that there was more to this than met the eye?

* * *

The next day, Uruha arrived at the entrance to the amusement park to find Kai waving at him.

“Hey, there,” Kai said. “I’m so glad to see you!”

“I’m glad to see you, too,” Uruha said. “How have you been?”

“Busy. Things were pretty frantic at work yesterday, I’m glad to have a day off.” He gave Uruha one of those smiles that could shame the sun itself. “You’re looking terrific today, by the way.”

“Oh, thanks.” Uruha wasn’t dressed as elaborately as yesterday – just a funky T-shirt with a glittery skull and crossbones on it and jeans, with some jewelry – but he thought it was “amusement park date” worthy. “So, you used to come here as a kid, too?”

“All the time,” Kai said. “It was my favorite place – whenever I got good grades in school, or needed a pick-me-up, my mother would bring me here.” He paused. “It was just the two of us for most of my childhood, too. Me and my mother. My parents got divorced when I was small.” He led them toward the ticket booth.

“I kind of had an unusual childhood, too,” Uruha said. Well, that was an understatement. “My parents died when I was really small, so I was raised by my uncles.” (He was never told the circumstances of their demise, but he had long suspected witch hunters – or fellow witches who didn’t approve of his father marrying a mortal. Witches and warlocks could come back after death – but it was possible to kill them “for keeps” with the right magical implements.)

“I’m very sorry,” Kai said. “That must have been tough.”

“I just sort of just accepted it as normal,” Uruha said. “I never knew anything different, really. It was just . . . normal life.”

“Well, we’re not here to talk about sad things, right?” Kai said. “Let’s have some fun! What do you want to do first?”

“Bumper cars!” Uruha said.

“Are you sure?” Kai said. “I can be pretty aggressive with them, you know.”

“Not as aggressive as me!” Uruha said. “Ask my friend Reita – we used to give each other whiplash all the time. I think the ride operators were flat-out scared when they saw us coming!”

“You’re giving me a challenge, you know,” Kai said.

“I flat-out LOVE a challenge,” Uruha said. “You’re ON!”

Sure enough, when they got to the cars, they were bumping into each other furiously, circling and chasing one another, then bumping into each other again. Uruha found himself laughing loudly as he fled across the course away from Kai.

“You’re not catching up to me!” he shouted.

“We’ll see about that!” Kai shouted back.

Uruha laughed as he spun his car around to avoid being rear-ended right before Kai approached. This is wonderful, he thought. I feel . . . free. Like I don’t have anything at all weighting me down.

They went from there to the roller coaster, and the scrambler, and the merry-go-round, where they caught and held each other’s hands as the horses went up and down. They bought a platter of takoyaki and sat on a bench to eat it.

“It’s just nice to eat junk food and do silly things, you know?” Kai said. “I need to do this more.”

“Being an adult is overrated sometimes, isn’t it?” Uruha said.

“Way overrated,” Kai said. “Don’t get me wrong, I love cooking for a living and all that, but sometimes? I miss when I was a kid and would stay up half the night reading manga.”

“When I was a kid, it was impossible to get me out of bed,” Uruha said. “My uncles had to resort to drastic measures to get me off to school.” 

“Like bodily throwing you out of bed?”

“Something like that.” More like levitating him out of the bed, setting him on his feet and magically dressing him, then floating him toward the door. He’d usually wake up with a piece of buttered toast being shoved into one hand and his schoolbooks into the other.

“You must have been popular in school,” Kai said.

“What makes you say that?” Uruha said.

“Well, I mean, as gorgeous as you are . . .”

“I really wasn’t,” Uruha said. “I always felt kind of, well, out of place.” At his mortal school, that was. At the Academy of Dark Arts, he blended right in – though he did wonder what people would think if they knew his half-mortal secret.

“I find that hard to believe,” Kai said.

“Well, I mean, my classmates were all focused on . . .”

“Getting into the right college, and then the right corporation?”

Uruha nodded. Well, that wasn’t a total lie – he wouldn’t have been able to get into that mindset even if he wasn’t a warlock. “I was more . . . arty. I did some drawing and painting, but it was mainly my writing.” 

“And I admire that,” Kai said. “I really don’t think Japanese schools should have just one goal. I think they should encourage people no matter what their life path is, you know? Because, in the end – everyone’s path is unique, don’t you think?”

Not as unique as mine, Uruha thought. “I couldn’t agree more.” He gave Kai a big smile. “Maybe if I’m a famous writer someday, I’ll use my money to start a private school like that.”

“If I’m ever a famous chef, I’ll help you with it,” Kai said.

“It’s a deal,” Uruha said.

“And you’ll be famous someday,” Kai said. “I know that.”

“Oh? How so?”

“Because you have the desire and drive to do it. You didn’t go into corporate life – you decided to just work in your uncles’ shop and dedicate yourself to your art. That’s special.”

“Lots of people do the starving artist thing, you know,” Uruha said.

“I know. But they don’t have your star quality. There’s something special about you, Uruha. I could tell from the moment I met you.”

“Do you say that to every cute guy you meet?”

“No. Because every cute guy I meet isn’t you.”

Oh, fuck, Uruha thought, my heart is beating a mile a minute. Hearing this guy say these things to me . . . I’m swooning like a teenage girl. Look at him, so adorable and sweet and pure. So . . . human. The very best of humanity.

“Well, I’m glad I heard it from you,” Uruha said. “Because you’re as cute as they come.” He finished his takoyaki. “Ferris wheel next?”

“You’ve got it,” Kai said.

Reita said to do what feels right, Uruha thought as they rode to the top of the wheel. This feels so very, very right, too. How can I commit to being fully mortal, or fully warlock, when both are absolutely ME?

* * *

After their amusement park experience, followed by dinner at a nearby donburi place, they headed back to Kai’s place to say goodnight.

“I have to thank you for that mint stuff, by the way,” Kai said. “It really worked. The mice haven’t been back since the day you sold it to me.”

“I’m very glad,” Uruha said. He knew they wouldn’t be back. He’d personally made sure of it.

“I’m kind of glad I had them in the first place, though.”

Uruha looked baffled. “Really? Why?”

“I wouldn’t have met you otherwise.”

Uruha felt his heart pounding again. What did I ever do to deserve knowing this guy, he thought . . .

“Well, then, I’m glad for them, too.” He turned toward Kai. “Can I text you about another date?”

“You can text me anytime,” Kai said. “Any time you want to talk. But, yes, we are definitely going on another date.” He leaned over toward Uruha. “But for now . . .”

Uruha leaned in toward him, and their lips met. It was a long, sweet, lingering kiss, the kind that passes between two people who aren’t quite sweethearts yet, but know damn well they wanted to have that status with each other.

“Good night, Kai,” Uruha said.

“Good night, Uruha.”

He watched the man go into the building, and then started quickly moving toward his own home. I’m sunk, he thought. I’m going to be replaying that kiss in my head all night . . .

And then, the image of Kai from his vision snapped into his mind. The smiling, sunny man he’d just kissed, only grim-faced and wielding a whip . . .

Oh, no, Uruha thought. Why that? Why again? And why do I feel like I should recognize something in this scene, that there’s something here that’s key . . .

He wasn’t going to let that damn vision returning ruin his afterglow of the evening. He shoved it out of his mind, violently. Except the nagging questions wouldn’t leave him entirely . . .

Why did he see Kai in that vision? What was his ultimate significance to Uruha’s life?

* * *

Ruki paced from one side of his apartment to the other – which didn’t take long because the place was pretty damn small. He was running through every incantation, every ceremonial phrase he knew, and the gestures that went along with them. (And, hey, if he did them out of order, that meant nothing would actually be summoned or invoked, right?)

He still couldn’t believe he’d been approached for this. He was going to be the first second degree priest in the fucking HISTORY of Templi Malum to lead a major ceremony. No fucking pressure or anything, right?

He just hoped this meant he was one step closer to his actual goal – take third degree initiation, become a fully ordained priest, and be able to start his own coven. Which was, quite frankly, why he wanted Uruha to sign Satan’s book so badly. He wanted his friend at his side in this.

He didn’t tell anyone – he sure as fuck wasn’t going to tell his supervisors – but he was having ideas about how a coven should be run – and its philosophical approach to things. He took his priestly studies seriously. So, in addition to the grimoires that were the basis of Templi Malum, he’d found himself studying other magical disciplines and forms of mysticism throughout the world, across cultures.

It was an eye-opener. It was making him question things he’d been taught since he was a child. He’d seen how other traditions had grown, developed and mutated over the years, and theirs was just . . . stagnant. They had the same rituals, traditions, observations that they’d been performing since medieval times. Okay, there were tiny modifications here and there – like eating the meat of a slaughtered deer at the Feast of Walpurgisnacht rather than the original tradition of cannibalism – but for the most part? It was, “We do it this way because we’ve always done it this way.”

Did it really have MEANING anymore, he thought, both for the worshippers and the Dark Lord? How much of this was necessary truth, and how much of it was just . . . dogma?

He didn’t dare even consider raising that issue while still within the main group, though. He’d be tried for heresy. He’d be excommunicated at best, killed at worst.

If only I could forge a new movement, he thought, that was based more on developing one’s magical potential through use of uniquely tailored symbol and ritual, and less on just repeating the same thing over and over. We’re supposed to be the followers of the Father of Rebellion, the one who literally defied God to forge his own path. So why is rebellion so stomped down within our group? Why all the blind obedience in the cult of the Defiant One?

Perhaps, he thought, Uruha, in wanting to hold onto his human side as well as his warlock one, is the biggest rebel of us all.

He was still determined to get his friend fully into the group, of course. But he was getting even more determined now that the two of them, and Aoi, would someday leave the parent group together. (Oh, and he wouldn’t mind of Byou came along, either. Not that he’d fucking admit that. Especially in front of Aoi.)

Together, they could blaze their own trail, just like the entity they served once did.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Uruha still struggled with the balance in his life.

He continued to be pressured by his uncles – and to a lesser extent, his friends – about signing his name in Satan’s book. He quietly told them that it was his own decision to make.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t still plagued by flashes of his vision. They’d come randomly, when he was working in the shop, or trying to write – which wasn’t coming easily nowadays – or even shopping for groceries. And they always came with the same questions . . . why? Why these people? Why these images? He had figured out what Aoi’s scene meant – but what about the others?

He made sure that he put aside time to be with Reita, because that was one of the things that kept him grounded and sane. The two of them went out for drinks, had a pizza-and-videos hangout night, and even went to Harajuku, where Uruha bought a lovely pair of stud-encrusted jeans.

“You’re really starting to get serious with that guy you’ve been seeing, aren’t you?” Reita asked him as they settled on a bench with crepes.

“Kai?” Uruha said. “I like him. I like him a lot.”

“Good,” Reita said. “You’ve needed someone for a long time. I know you work a lot – both on your writing and for your uncles. You need to play a bit more.”

“I play, you know,” Uruha said. Of course, Reita didn’t know about The Suicide Circus – just like he didn’t know anything about that side of his life.

“You don’t play enough,” Reita said. “Life is for enjoying, you know? In the end, long as you have some sort of job and a roof over your head, you’re fine – and you have both. Anything else? Not worth stressing over.”

I wish I could tell you, Uruha thought. I wish you could know the source of my stress, what I’m going through right now. But if you did – what would you think of me? Would you still want to be my best friend knowing that my family serves the Dark Lord?

Fortunately, his single biggest source of comfort was very much around, and that was Kai. They were seeing each other every chance they got – meeting for drinks, going to the movies, going to karaoke. He was starting to love how the other man felt like human sunshine – a bit of light in Uruha’s life, which was normally devoted to darkness.

“You genuinely love life, don’t you?” Uruha asked Kai when they were sitting in a Starbucks in Shibuya.

“I guess I do,” Kai said. “I know how to count my blessings, you know?”

“Sometimes, I wish I could do that more,” Uruha said.

“You have plenty of blessings,” Kai said. “You have talent and friends and a family who love you, right?”

If only they loved me enough to truly understand, Uruha thought. “You’re right,” he said.

“And you provide surprises. Nice surprises. I mean, to look at you? Someone would think you were a model. Calm, composed and dignified all the time. But you can also be wonderfully silly, too.” He paused. “I really think that’s what I like best about you, Uruha. You’re unpredictable.”

If only you knew, Uruha thought . . .

Every time they said goodnight, they kissed – and every time, the soft and warm kisses grew hotter and more fervent. Uruha waited for Kai to ask him upstairs – warlocks, of course, had no qualms whatsoever about sex under any circumstances, as long as there was consent. But he continued to be a gentleman.

His warlock friends, of course, knew very well how he felt about Kai. Aoi teased him about it. “What do you mean, you haven’t got in his pants yet?”

“We’re taking our time,” Uruha said. “It’s a paced relationship.”

“Paced? How long are you going to pace it? You’re gonna be signing your name pretty soon, and then? You think the higher-ups are gonna let you date him then?”

“What the higher-ups don’t know won’t hurt them,” Uruha said. “Besides, what do they care about who we date?”

“I still think you should get it while you still can. Especially if he’s hot.”

“Oh, he’s hot, all right.” Hotter than hell, Uruha thought. Ha-ha, the irony. And what if I don’t decide to sign? What if I decide to be mortal, and stay with him . . . what then?

* * *

The day before his birthday, Uruha got a phone call from Kai when he was working at the shop. “What are you doing after work?” Kai said.

“Nothing,” Uruha said. “In fact, I’m getting off a bit early today, the uncles are coming in around three. They had . . . business to attend to.” As in, meeting with the high priests about my Dark Baptism tomorrow, no doubt, he thought.

“Well, my boss is away for a couple of days, and he asked me to go into his house, water his plants and feed his cat – and he said I could use his indoor pool while I was at it. Want to go swimming?”

“I’d love it!” Uruha said. Yes please, ask me on a date, he thought. Distract me from thinking about the next 24 hours . . . and the fact that I may not be able to see you again if I do decide to sign . . .

“I’ll give you the address,” Kai said. “Come there as soon as you’re done, okay?”

“Oh, you bet,” Uruha said. I can conjure a swimsuit onto my body, he thought. I have some in the magic closet. I’ll just put it on under my clothes . . .

As soon as his uncles arrived at the store, Uruha ran out from behind the counter. “Got a date!” he said. “Talk to you later!”

“Uruha,” Uncle Atsushi said, “you didn’t make any plans for tomorrow, did you?”

“No, no, I know about tomorrow. Bye!” He rushed out the front door – and nearly crashed into Aoi and Ruki.

“What the fuck?” Ruki said.

“Sorry,” Uruha said. “Date with Kai! I’ll talk to you!” He rushed off.

Inside the store, Uncle Yoshiki was saying, “We should be glad he’s met someone, Atsushi. He probably met the guy at that club he hangs out at – what is it called again, Death Carnival?”

“It’s not that,” Uncle Atsushi replied. “He should be focusing on what’s ahead of him in the near future.” He started rearranging bottles . . .

And then, Ruki’s voice carried into the store from outside. “It’s the fucking mortal he’s dating,” he said. “He’s nuts about the guy!”

“Well, hopefully, it’s emphasis on fucking,” Aoi said. “I told him he should get some while he can. I mean, he’s been on how many dates with him, and . . .”

Their voices faded away. Uncle Atsushi just stood there, his face in a grim mask. “MORTAL?” he said.

“Maybe they’re talking about that friend of his from school?” Uncle Yoshiki said.

“He distinctly said Uruha was crazy about a mortal.” Uncle Atsushi opened the door to the store’s back room. “Watch the front of the shop!” he said.

The older man proceeded into his private office, where a crystal ball sat on his desk. He sat down, putting his hands on the crystal, and drew a deep breath . . .

“Show me Uruha,” he said out loud.

The glass fogged . . . and then cleared up to reveal a picture of Uruha splashing in a pool with a young man about his age, both of them laughing, then leaning over to share a brief kiss.

Atsushi reached out with his psychic senses toward Uruha’s boyfriend. No imprint of magic. He was definitely a mortal.

“Fuck,” he muttered. No wonder the boy was reluctant to sign. He was dating one of THEM. And they couldn’t let Uruha get away with not signing. Not with what was at stake. “Bad enough there’s one mortal he cares about,” he murmured. “Now there’s TWO.”

Uncle Yoshiki peeked in. “Everything okay, dear?”

“Only that Ruki was telling the truth. Uruha’s boyfriend’s a mortal. FUCK. First that damn best friend of his, now this. If he has any ties to the mortal world, he’s not going to sign!”

“Unless we use the mortals to help convince him?” Uncle Yoshiki said.

Uncle Atsushi’s head snapped up. “What did you say?”

“I mean, if it can be turned to our advantage . . .”

Uncle Atsushi jumped up from the table and pulled on the other man’s arm. “Use your psychic senses,” he said. “Get that boy’s name and where he lives. You’re better at that than me. And then . . .”

Uruha will sign, he thought. Whatever it takes.

* * *

Floating around in the pool with Kai, Uruha couldn’t help but feel like he was miles away from his cares. There were no feelings of foreboding, no visions. One would almost think that he didn’t have a life-altering decision hanging over his head.

“You’re really a fast swimmer,” Kai laughed. “It’s hard to keep up with you.”

“It’s one of the few athletic things I can actually do,” Uruha said. “Most of the time? I’m kind of clumsy.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Kai said. “It’s kind of endearing.” He flipped over and floated on his back. “You should wear a bathing suit more often, by the way.”

“I can’t exactly wear one working the counter of the store,” Uruha replied – as his eyes swept over Kai’s body. No, it was Kai who should wear a swimsuit more often. He was toned and sexy, with a flat belly and nicely muscled arms. Not as ripped as Reita or one of his clients, but damn attractive otherwise.

“You might get more customers that way,” Kai said. “How did your family get into that line of work, anyway?”

“Call it family tradition,” Uruha said. Never mind that herbalism and potion making were among the oldest witch skills there were. “The shop was started by my grandmother.”

“And your uncles inherited it when she passed away?”

“No, when she moved to America.” And she was still there, to Uruha’s knowledge – he hadn’t seen her in years. “We have family there as well.”

“Me, too,” Kai said, cheerfully. “I have cousins in New Jersey. I kind of like living where I am, though. There’s an underlying serenity to Japan – even though Tokyo can be crazy.”

“The craziness can work to your advantage,” Uruha said, swimming over toward Kai. “It’s easy to blend into the crowd if you don’t want to be found.”

“And why wouldn’t you want to be found?” Kai said.

“Maybe I have my secrets,” Uruha said, teasingly.

“Maybe I want to find them out,” Kai said, closing the distance between them, pulling Uruha into his arms and kissing him.

Uruha found himself kissing Kai with a fervor he didn’t know was possible. He pulled him closer, opening his mouth, pushing his tongue forward . . . when he felt Kai responding to him, it just fueled the fire. He found himself hooking his leg over his boyfriend’s hip, rubbing against him, feeling Kai do the same . . .

Kai leaned back, breathing hard. “I think we need to take this to poolside,” he said.

“I think so, too,” Uruha said.

They climbed out and walked over to a flat lounger. Almost as soon as they sat down, they were kissing fervently again, their hands starting to roam over each other’s bodies. Uruha found himself tipping Kai backward until the other man was lying on his back.

The half-warlock leaned back on his haunches, eyes wandering from the top of Kai’s head to the tips of his toes. Just look at this beautiful man, he thought. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite like him in my life.

“What are you thinking right now?” Kai said.

“How much I want to explore all of you.”

“So why don’t you?”

In answer, Uruha bent over, pressing his lips to his new lover’s collarbone, running his tongue over it. He licked a slow trail down Kai’s chest, feeling the other man shudder beneath him, one of Kai’s hands stroking Uruha’s hair.

“Keep going,” Kai whispered.

When he licked over a nipple, Uruha swished his tongue back and forth, then captured it in his lips, sucking hard – and Kai shuddered under him. “Yes . . .”

Oh, Kai, why didn’t I do this sooner, Uruha thought, as he licked his way over to the other nipple, sucking it just as hard as the first, feeling the bud harden under his attentions. There was heat running all over his own body, and his cock was stiffening within his swimsuit, the fabric stretching against him in a way that made him just want to take it off.

His hand slid down Kai’s torso, until he reached the waistband over the other man’s trunks, which he pulled at, slipping his fingers under, then pulling them back, then slipping them under again. He tugged the garment down just a little, then raised his head, eyes searching Kai’s face with an unspoken question.

“Please,” Kai said, and Uruha sat up, pulling the trunks down and off, looking at what was revealed . . .

“Oh, my . . .” His eyes widened. Kai was huge. He was the biggest guy he’d ever seen in person in his life. He knew warlocks who’d used enlarging spells on themselves who didn’t come out as big as Kai.

“Is it too much for you?” Kai looked genuinely worried.

Of course, Uruha thought. He probably had mortal lovers who were frightened of taking something that big . . . and with just cause. You could end up in a lot of pain if you couldn’t magically loosen and expand . . . certain body parts.

“It’s perfect,” he said. He leaned over, and planted a reverent kiss on the length, then another, moving slowly up toward the tip, stroking his tongue along it, feeling the hard heat . . . fuck, he just felt and tasted so good, unlike anyone Uruha had ever been with, mortal or warlock . . .

He moved up to the tip, circling it with his tongue, kissing it, then circling it again, his fingers stroking along the shaft. Kai was moaning and writhing beneath him now. “Uruha . . . oh, Uruha . . .”

Uruha just wished he could use magic. He could enhance this moment in so many ways . . . but he settled for just licking downward, sliding his tongue over the hard cock, moving downward toward his balls . . .

His own erection was straining against his swimsuit again. It was time to do something about that. He pulled away and stood up, sliding his trunks down and stepping out of them, feeling Kai’s appreciative eyes on him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so beautiful in my life,” Kai said.

“It’s all for you, you know.” Uruha lay full-length on top of him, bringing his lips to Kai’s again, and they kissed fiercely, shifting their hips so their cocks rubbed against each other, and Uruha felt wonderfully overwhelmed again by that hugeness, by something so incredibly and overwhelmingly male . . .

They started to grind against each other, moaning at the intimate contact, and Uruha felt Kai’s hands run down his back to his ass, grabbing the firm flesh, squeezing it hard, just making Uruha move against him faster . . .

The friction was utterly delicious – not just their cocks sliding together, but the feel of Kai’s hard chest against his, those hands on his ass, not to mention their lips coming together over and over, wet heat intermingling . . .

Uruha moved faster, breathing Kai’s name into his mouth, grinding against him, feeling precome slicking them . . . he took his lips from the other man’s long enough to nip quickly and fiercely at his neck, and was rewarded with a sharp little cry . . .

Kai’s hands squeezed his ass hard, and suddenly Uruha gasped, and shuddered, and heard his lover murmur, “Uruha, I’m close, I’m . . .” And then Kai cried out, and shivered under him, and Uruha felt hot wetness splattering all over his belly . . .

He continued to grind against Kai again and again, and then he buried his face in his shoulder, letting out a loud cry of release and completion, shaking with ecstasy from head to toe as intense bliss coursed through him.

He felt Kai’s arms wrap around him, and they kissed gently, before Uruha lowered his head to Kai’s chest, feeling warm and comfortable and safe for the first time in eons.

Please don’t let this moment end, he thought. Please don’t make me have to move from this spot, ever. If only I could use my powers to put this moment on infinite loop . . .

“You’re incredible,” Kai said. “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever known, Uruha.”

“Not as incredible as you,” Uruha said.

I’m falling in love with him, he thought. I can’t run away from it, or hide from it. I have to keep him in my life . . . somehow.

But part of him was still questioning whether he’d be willing to give up his powers to do it, and he still didn’t quite know the answer.

* * *

The morning of his birthday, Uruha woke up from a night of fitful sleep feeling like he had a lead weight on his chest.

Tonight is it, he thought. No going back – at all. Either I sign, keep my powers, and possibly never see Kai again – or Reita, for that matter – or I don’t sign and join the mortal world.

It was a raw deal any way you looked at it. You had magic and were the slave of a dark deity . . . or you had none and had total freedom to do whatever you wanted.

“Why can’t I have both freedom AND power?” he said aloud. But nobody answered him – not even the Dark Lord himself.

He stumbled down to breakfast, where things seemed pretty much normal. Uncle Yoshiki put a plate of pancakes in front of him. “All ready for tonight?” he said, in a voice much more cheerful than was necessary.

“I guess,” Uruha said, blandly.

“No guessing,” Uncle Atsushi said. “Uruha . . . generations upon generations of our family have signed that book, for centuries. Millennia, even. You will sign as well, or . . .”

Uncle Yoshiki suddenly shot him a sharp look. Uncle Atsushi instantly fell silent.

“Never mind,” Uncle Atsushi said. “Just be ready on every level. Physical, mental, emotional. We will mind the store today, you should spend that time in reflection and meditation.”

The two of them left for the shop, and Uruha was left alone, poking at his half-eaten pancakes. Meditation? He thought. If I do that, then I’m afraid that I’ll see THAT again. That vision . . . and I still don’t know what any of it means other than the part with Aoi . . . but how is his failed dream relevant to ME?

He went into the living room and lay down on the couch – the same one he used to bounce on as a child, trying to keep himself levitated in the air as long as he could. He was very strong magically, even then. It made it easy for his uncles to keep his status as a half-breed hushed up – only his closest friends knew the truth.

It hadn’t been easy, then, living between two worlds. He had a tendency to lose control of his powers during his early years at a mortal school – although that mostly manifested in a series of baffling accidents that befell students and teachers alike. He’d always worried that people would know it was him, however, and he kept to himself . . .

Until Reita befriended him. Come to think of it, he thought, the beginning of our friendship was when I really started getting control of my powers, wasn’t it?

And once he had control of them, he really impressed the adults around him – first his uncles, then the teachers at the Academy of Dark Arts. They proclaimed him one of the most talented students they’d seen in years.

Which, of course, just made the pressure to sign the book even stronger. Every birthday, starting when he was 16 . . . “You’re going to sign this year, right?” “Uruha, you ARE going to do it this year, aren’t you?” “Please, Uruha, you don’t have much time left. You don’t want all that power to go to waste, do you?”

Until this year. Until the absolute drop-dead deadline for him to make his decision. Tonight was the night.

Can I make the decision to not sign? Uruha thought. Can I live stripped of my powers? I’ve seen how mortals live, when I’ve been with Reita, and Kai . . . they have to travel on packed trains, get dressed slowly one garment at a time, clean their homes bit by bit by hand . . .

It was unpleasant, all right. But the idea of being at the mercy of the Dark Lord, to be called on to do his bidding at any time, even if it meant hurting people . . . that was equally unpleasant.

There were no good answers, no easy solutions, and no free ride because he was only a half-warlock. If only he could decode his vision, maybe the answer would be in there.

But no, it all seemed as baffling as ever. Ruki at his most charismatic, with the two children supposedly leading a parade . . . Kai whipping the hooded man . . . Reita setting fires . . . himself chained and blindfolded . . . and what did it all have to do with Aoi having to give up his dream to remain a warlock?

“Why did you send it to me?” he raged at the Dark Lord. “What does it all mean? What is my place in the world – in all this? WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?”

He flopped over on his stomach, banging the couch with his fists in frustration. He couldn’t even count on his one source of comfort, his biggest distraction from all this, Kai . . .

If only I could tell him the truth, he thought. What if I vanish from his life after tonight? I should have given him a gift, something to remember me by . . . the only gift I ever gave him was removing the mice from his apartment . . .

Of course, there was their lovemaking the day before. But that wasn’t a gift. It was mutually wanted, mutually shared. It was a thing of beauty.

I’ll figure out a way to see you again, he thought. Even if I have to defy hell itself . . .

Physically and mentally exhausted, he dropped into a dreamless sleep on the couch.

* * *

After the shop closed, the two uncles stopped at the temple to check on preparations.

Ruki was pacing the room, trying to stay calm. I’ll be fine, the young priest told himself. I’ve been preparing for this literally all my life, right? I’m usually confident about everything, why am I fucking uneasy now?

There was something that his senses were telling him was out of line here . . . but why? Everything seemed fine.

Uncle Atsushi observed Ruki’s look – in addition to the standard black robe, he’d gone all-out. Elaborately styled black hair, black powder around his eyes, black and silver lipstick, two red dots over his third eye . . .

“It’s over the top,” Uncle Atsushi said. “Honestly, these young priests. . . .”

“Come now, he’s going to have all eyes on him tonight,” Uncle Yoshiki replied. “Of course he’ll want to look his best.” He went over to Ruki. “Love the aesthetic, dear.”

“Thanks,” Ruki said – just as Mendes-sama approached him.

“I still don’t know why you’re insisting on chickens for the sacrifice,” the high priest said. “It’s always been traditionally a goat for a Dark Baptism.”

“Because there’s no waste with chickens,” Ruki said. “We cook them and eat them for the feast after the ceremony. Goats just get dumped and dissolved – and the magic to do that DOES release methane gas into the air, you know. Not even the Dark Lord can reverse global warming.”

“Fine,” the high priest said in a curt voice, before stomping away muttering, “Satan preserve me from woke warlocks.”

Uncle Atsushi chased Mendes-sama down. “Your Dark Majesty,” he said, “is everything in readiness? I mean . . . EVERYTHING?”

“Take a look for yourself,” the high priest said, gesturing toward the corner – where a black drape was concealing a large lump – and then above the altar, where another lump covered by another cloth was hanging. “I admire how far you were willing to go for this.”

“And there IS a concealment spell?”

“Nobody will see it but you two and me until the moment arrives. Not even the boy officiating. If he knew, he’d probably throw a fit and refuse to go through with it. He has some peculiar ideas sometimes, that one.”

“There’s far too much at stake to let ANYTHING go wrong,” Uncle Atsushi said. “Uruha will sign, whatever it takes . . . and it seems that THIS is what it takes.”

I just hope it does not come to that, Uncle Atsushi thought. I hope the boy sees Ruki officiating at the ceremony, and that’s enough to convince him. But if it isn’t . . . we have to have insurance.

They had to be successful, no matter what it took.

* * *

Uruha had been told to be ready at sunset. He’d been given an outfit for the occasion – a sleeveless black leather tunic and matching pants. He bathed, dressed, and was waiting at the door for his Escorts, who would take him to the temple.

They approached in silence – two student priests, one wearing a sleeveless black robe, the other a white robe, both of them wearing masks that looked owl-like and covered their entire faces. They walked up the steps and bowed to him, silently. He bowed in return and followed them, in silence, down the street.

A concealment spell protected them from mortal eyes as they turned at the graveyard Uruha went to for comfort. He looked upward to see a rising full moon surrounded by trees, as if it was a huge, all-seeing eye looking down at him.

Part of him wanted to turn and run, but he fought it off. He had to go through with it. He had to make the choice, in front of the whole coven.

At the back of the graveyard was a small grove of woods . . . and a series of steps leading up a hill, visible only to witches and warlocks. The Escorts walked up them, and Uruha followed. A fog was rolling in, uncharacteristic for that time of year.

Quietly, they walked toward something that looked like just a crumbling old house to mortals . . . but witches saw it for what it really was. A huge, abandoned, defiled Christian church – the perfect place for dark ritual. It even resembled a horror film castle from outside.

A flock of squawking birds passed over that moon as they led him toward the door. He could already hear the sounds of ritual inside – drumbeats and chanting.

This is it, he thought. No turning back.

The Escort in black raised the knocker of the front door and pounded three times, alerting those inside that the candidate had arrived. Someone inside pulled in open . . .

As Uruha walked in, the first thing he saw was an incense burner swinging wildly from the ceiling. It looked like a pendulum ticking off the seconds until his doom. The Escorts led him down the center of the temple, with chanting, black-clad witches and warlocks on either side of him.

At the altar was Aoi, leaping and whirling and posing in a ritual dance. At least there was one familiar face here, which seemed comforting. He didn’t want to look at what was behind his friend, however . . .

The big, open book, bound in human flesh, with countless signatures scrawled within in blood. Next to it, a quill pen, a chalice and a knife.

But Uruha’s attention was drawn away when Aoi moved to the side – and the officiant stepped forward, arms held out, chanting in an ancient, infernal language. Ruki? He thought. Ruki is officiating? REALLY? But . . . but he’s only second degree . . .

Sure enough, it was Ruki. He sat cross-legged behind the altar, the Escorts kneeling on either side of him. A priestess behind him brandished a candelabra filled with black candles, its light flickering over the book, making it look even more eerie than it was.

“Dark Father, you who are master of primal night, look upon this supplicant who was destined for the from his birth, and before his birth,” Ruki said. “Guide his hand as he signs himself over to you.”

The priestess threw out her arms, chanting, and another one of those incense burners was swinging wildly over her, spewing a smoke everywhere that seemed to fill the entire room. He breathed it in, and his head seemed to be swimming . . .

It’s starting to feel unreal, Uruha thought. Am I here? Is this happening? Is this a dream, or a hallucination . . . he looked at the priestess, and for a moment it seemed to him as if a foul, black liquid was pouring out of her mouth . . .

And his mind shifted, and there was the vision again. Ruki and the two children . . . Aoi pushing the woman aside . . . Reita setting fires . . Kai and the whip . . . 

I don’t want to see myself again! Uruha thought, fighting the vision. I don’t! I can’t see myself as bound and powerless . . .

Then don’t be, a voice in his head said. You know what you have to do.

But is signing the book really what’s going to free me? Uruha thought. Is that what’s going to . . .

The feeling of something wrapping around his wrists and ankles snapped him back to reality. It was . . . vines. They were growing out of the floor, holding him in place so he could not move or escape until it was time to take the pen in his hand.

A hand reached toward him, seeming to come out of an abyss toward his face . . . and then it grasped his bound arm, and there was the flash of pain at his wrist as the black-clad Escort cut him. The white-clad one held out the chalice that was on the altar, as Uruha’s blood seemed to drip . . . and drip . . .

The two uttered a healing spell, and his flesh closed. The cup was brought to the altar, laid down next to the book . . .

Ruki began to chant loudly. The coven took up his words, Latin phrases being recited over and over . . . the temple drummers pounded their instruments, and Aoi began writhing and dancing again . . .

Ruki walked up to him with a second chalice of blood in his hand – this one from the sacrificed chickens. He dipped his index finger into it and marked an inverted pentagram on Uruha’s forehead.

“It is time,” he said. He handed the chalice to one of the Escorts and put his hands on Uruha’s shoulders, the vines vanishing . . .

Uruha felt himself being guided forward through smoke and chanting and a prevailing sense of unreality. The pen was pressed into his hand.

His whole life seemed to flash before his eyes at once. Little Uruha, delighting in making himself hover in the air over the couch . . . the teenager having contests with Aoi and Ruki to see who could throw something furthest into the air with a single blast of magic . . . but then, at the same age, sneaking into adult-restricted movies with Reita, and laughing with friends at his mortal school . . .

And then, flashes of Kai. Smiling at Uruha, kissing him, telling him he was beautiful . . .

Which is truly me? Uruha thought. The human, or the warlock? Why can’t it be both?

His hand trembled, the pen held in the air over the book. “I . . . I don’t know . . .”

“Then your mind will be made up for you,” said a voice behind Ruki. There stood the high priest, Mendes-sama, who had been silent until now.

He snapped his fingers . . . and a beam of moonlight was focused on the black cloth that covered a lumpy thing hanging over the altar. Why didn’t I see that before now? Uruha thought.

Ruki frowned when he saw the item. That wasn’t there! He thought. I KNOW that wasn’t there before! What the FUCK is going on here?

The high priest snapped again, and the cloth fell to the floor . . . to reveal a wooden crucifix, with a human being bound to it by chains. A sword was hovering in the air over the person’s throat, its implications clear – one snap, and he died.

Uruha knew exactly who it was. “REITA!” he screamed. “NO! REITA!”

“And if that isn’t enough to convince you . . .” the high priest said. He snapped again, and the light moved to another object, in the corner . . .

When the cloth fell away this time, Uruha saw an open iron maiden, its lethal spikes gleaming, poised and ready to kill. There was a person tied up inside that as well . . .

“KAI!” Uruha said. “YOU DIDN’T! YOU DIDN’T! LET HIM GO, YOU . . .”

“Careful, Uruha,” Mendes-sama said. “Their lives are in your hands. Sign, or the mortals die.”

Ruki’s jaw dropped. What . . . was . . . THIS? He knew NOTHING about this. Nothing at ALL. He sure as FUCK wouldn’t have approved it if he’d known. Hurting innocent mortals . . . mortals who were important to Uruha . . .

His hand suddenly clenched in a fist with rage. There’s such a thing as going to far, even for us, he thought. And this was TOO. FUCKING. FAR.

“WAIT!” a voice suddenly shouted from the congregation. Uncle Yoshiki raced over to the altar.

“Yoshiki,” Mendes-sama said, coldly, “do NOT interrupt the ceremony.”

“The boy has a right to know WHY we had to go this far!” Yoshiki said. “Please, let me tell him!”

The high priest eyed Uruha’s uncle icily. “Fine,” he said. “But make it fast!”

“Uncle Yoshiki,” Uruha said, “did . . . did you KNOW about this?”

“Atsuhi and I were the ones who kidnapped them,” Uncle Yoshiki said. “But we HAD to! You HAVE to sign, Uruha! You have no idea how important you are!”

“WHY?” Uruha said. “I’m nothing but a half-warlock!”

“That is exactly it,” said Uncle Atsushi, walking up next to Uncle Yoshiki. “You are a half-warlock. Uruha, do you know WHY we asked you to keep that hidden?”

“Because it’s an embarrassment?” Uruha said.

“No,” Uncle Atsushi said. “Because . . . you’re the only one, Uruha.”

“You’re what’s called a Child of Two Worlds,” Uncle Yoshiki said. “Usually, when a human mates with a witch or warlock, and a child results . . . it’s a monstrous abomination that doesn’t survive. A pile of limbs without even a full head. It’s why those relationships are usually forbidden.”

“But once every few hundred years or so, the child not only survives, but he or she is exceptionally beautiful, exceptionally talented, and exceptionally strong,” Uncle Atsushi said. “We knew you were a Child of Two Worlds from the moment you were born.”

“Your mother didn’t survive long after your birth,” Uncle Yoshiki said. “But she lived long enough to name you Uruha – the beautiful one. And that’s when we knew what you were.”

“So . . . you want me to stay a warlock just because . . . I’m one in a million powerful?”

“Not just that,” Uncle Atsushi said. He looked over at Mendes-sama. “Is there a cloaking spell on us?”

“I encased the altar area in a bubble from the moment Yoshiki spoke,” the high priest said. “There’s nobody listening now but people . . .” He glared at Ruki. “I KNOW can be trusted.”

Ruki was just so gobsmacked at this point that he could only nod. What the fuck? He thought. Just WHAT THE FUCK? Why didn’t ANYONE tell me about this? Any of this?

“There was a prophecy,” Uncle Atsushi said. “One that is only known to higher-ups in the temple. That in the first half of the 21st century, a Child of Two Worlds would emerge whose coming would be associated with a cataclysmic event.”

“We’ve had indications that witch hunters have been active again,” Mendes-sama said. “They’ve been silent for quite a long while, but . . .”

“There have been deaths reported in other temples,” Uncle Atsushi said.

Uruha nodded. He’d heard plenty about witch hunters – practitioners of white magic who thought it was their sacred duty to hunt down and kill their black magic opposites. He’d also heard their success had been limited in the past.

“But it seems these aren’t just any witch hunters,” Uncle Yoshiki said. “It’s been rumored that among their numbers is . . . a Nephilim.”

“WHAT?” Ruki said. “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?”

“RUKI!” Mendes-sama snapped.

“My apologies, master,” Ruki grumbled, bowing . . . but he thought, I don’t fucking regret losing my shit just now. Nephilim? That’s BAD.

It was said that angelic beings existed in the world, just as demonic ones did. A Nephilim was a human who carried angelic blood.

When a witch or warlock signed Satan’s book, he or she was granted immortality – or at least immunity from disease, aging, and being killed by normal, human means. It was why the two uncles were able to resolve quarrels by literally killing each other – and then coming back.

But there were certain things that COULD permanently kill one of them. And one of them was definitely a Nephilim. Indeed, Nephilim in the past had been devastating to witch populations – it was said there were currently no witches and warlocks in South Korea as a direct result.

“And one of the few things that can successfully fight against a Nephilim,” Uncle Yoshiki said, is . . . a Child of Two Worlds. That’s what we think the prophecy is about, Uruha. You are destined to protect us from the Nephilim. That’s why we NEED you.”

Uruha just stood there, shaking with emotion. I’m . . . I’m . . . some kind of warlock messiah? He thought. I’m destined to save us all? Maybe the prophecy isn’t referring to that. Maybe it’s referring to something else . . .

“Now,” Mendes-sama said, “I’m going to release the bubble, and you’re going to sign that book – for the sake of us all. If you don’t sign the book, your best friend and boyfriend die.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me instead of doing this to them?” Uruha said.

“We had to make SURE you accepted your destiny,” Uncle Atsushi said. “We were still afraid you were going to run.”

Uruha walked over to the book as the high priest snapped to banish the bubble. The Dark Lord has won, Uruha thought. I have no choice but to sign myself over to him. All my worrying . . . all my wrestling with this . . . and in the end, I’m really powerless to decide, aren’t I? Maybe that’s why I saw myself as bound and helpless in that vision . . .

He grasped the quill, brought it to the cup . . .

And then, a thought popped into my head. If I’m really who they say I am, he thought, if they really need me that badly . . . I have the power in the situation, don’t I?

Uruha fixed the high priest and his uncles with a stony gaze. “I have conditions of signing,” he said.

His uncles looked at each other, shocked. They were threatening the lives of the two mortals he cared for, and he still said THAT?

“Conditions, my dear?” Uncle Yoshiki said.

“Number one, I do NOT have to cut myself off from the mortal world,” Uruha said. “If what’s unique about me is my half-mortal status? Then let me embrace both sides of myself. I will continue my friendship with Reita and continue to date Kai.”

“All right, my dear,” Uncle Yoshiki sighed. “I’d rather you find a nice warlock boy, but . . .”

“Let him,” Uncle Atsushi said. “If that’s what it takes.”

“Number two, we trust other members of our group if they want to interface with the mortal world. Nobody should have to give up a dream they have just because of their status in our community.”

“What brought that on?” Mendes-sama said.

“Does it matter?” Uncle Atsushi said.

“And number three,” Uruha said. He glanced over at Ruki. “You’re going to let Ruki take his third degree initiation.”

“I was going to anyway,” Mendes-sama said. “He proved himself tonight.”

Ruki suddenly looked shocked. “Really?” he said.

“You have all your conditions,” the high priest said. “Now SIGN!”

Uruha dipped the pen in the cup. He looked at the imprisoned Reita, then at Kai. What I do now, he thought, I’m doing for you.

He glanced over at Ruki, and at Aoi, who had now come to stand behind the young priest, watching with interest. I’m also doing it for you, he thought.

Uruha brought the pen to the book, took a deep breath, and signed his name with a flourish. The darkness had won . . . but on Uruha’s terms.

Instantly, he felt a surge of power – as if his magic had increased a hundredfold. He felt like he could move mountains, stop seas in their tracks . . .

And the first thing he did was look over at the iron maiden, snap his fingers and make it vanish. Kai slumped to the floor. He looked up at the cross, dissolved the chains and lowered Reita to the ground.

“It’s over,” he said. “I’ve signed.”

Ruki was bound and determined to get the fucking ceremony back on course, even though he was still so rattled and shocked that he could hardly think straight. “Kneel for the Dark Lord’s blessing,” he told Uruha.

Uruha dropped to his knees just long enough for Ruki to put his hands on his head and utter some arcane words. Then, he scrambled up and ran toward the two mortals.

“REITA!” he shouted. “KAI!”

Mendes-sama faced the other coven members, arms outstretched. The two Escorts were performing the Banishing of the Elements ceremony that ended all formal magic rituals.

“The rite is over,” he loudly announced. “We will meet at the usual tavern for the reception!” He added, in a mutter, “With that damn boy’s CHICKENS on the menu . . .”

Uruha, meanwhile, had reached the two. Reita was fully unconscious. Kai was stirring. He pulled his lover’s head into his lap.

“Kai,” he said. “Kai, please say something . . .”

Kai raised his head. “You . . . you’re here . . . you’re the one who saved me, aren’t you?”

“Yes. I banished the thing you were in. I . . .” He suddenly stopped. “Kai, were you awake for any of . . . that? What did you see?”

“I woke up when I heard chanting,” Kai said. “I’d been out since . . .” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I was on my way into my apartment, when two guys jumped out of nowhere, looked at me, and snapped their fingers. I passed out. When I woke up, I was tied up in that thing, and I saw the ritual . . .”

“I’m sorry,” Uruha said. “I’m so sorry you had to see that! I’m sorry they did this to you! I’m . . .”

“No, Uruha.” Kai reached up and took Uruha’s hand in his. “You weren’t responsible for this.”

Uruha looked at their joined hands. “You still want to touch me? Knowing . . . what I am?”

“I’ve suspected for awhile, Uruha.”

Now Uruha looked shocked. “You . . . HAVE?” Mortals aren’t supposed to know about anything in the witch world! He thought. What . . . the . . .

“My family,” Kai said. “I denounced what they were about a long time ago, but . . .” He raised his head. “I . . . I come from a line of witch hunters.”

Uruha gasped in shock. Kai . . . WHAT? He was a WITCH HUNTER?

“But I hate what they did!” Kai said. “So does my mother. That’s . . . that’s why she left my father. It’s his family who did it. When my mother found out my father had actually destroyed a family of witches, she threw him out of the house. I don’t care who you are, what you worship, what abilities you have . . . a human being is a human being!”

And then, Kai’s scene in Uruha’s vision popped into his head. He suddenly realized why the symbol on the hood of the man Kai was beating looked familiar. It’s the mark of a witch hunter, he thought.

“You would punish them if you could?” Uruha said.

“If I had those murderers in front of me? I’d beat them senseless.”

And the second part of the vision puzzle was solved. But what about the rest? Uruha thought. I’ve signed the book, and I’m still no closer to finding out what it all meant.

“Then how did you know I was a . . .”

“There was a trunk of my father’s things still in the attic,” Kai said. “I got curious once, and I broke into it. He had these notebooks where he listed locations of suspected witches – one of them was your family’s shop.”

Uruha’s blood turned cold. “He . . . could have killed my uncles . . .”

“I think the only thing that stopped him was he wasn’t able to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt what they were,” Kai said. “But I remembered the place when I was looking for an herbalist to buy peppermint oil from.” He squeezed Uruha’s hand. “And I’m so glad I did.”

“Kai . . .” Uruha leaned over to kiss him. He still wants me, he thought. He’s from a background of witch hunters, he knows I’m a warlock, and he still wants me!

But a loud groan next to them interrupted the couple. Uruha turned and saw his best friend stirring. “Reita!” he said, grabbing the other man’s hand. “Please tell me you’re okay!”

“I don’t know what the hell drug they gave me,” Reita mumbled. “I just remember some guys jumping out of the bushes by the gym . . . next thing I know I’m hanging over a Satanic altar tied to a cross . . .”

“You saw the ceremony, too?” Uruha said.

“That . . . was real?” Reita said. “I really saw you . . . sell your soul to the devil?”

“Not sell,” Uruha said, bitterly. “It was handed over on a silver platter from the moment I was born. Turns out this was a formality. I’m . . . I’m a half-warlock, Reita. I was born one. And I’m so, so sorry I couldn’t tell you! You’ve been my best friend all my life, and I’ve been hiding this enormous secret . . .”

Reita frowned. “Warlock? As in . . . male witch, warlock?”

“Yes. I have powers. Remember when you got flu, and you couldn’t understand how you got better faster than anyone else? That was me. Or when you were crossing the street and that car came toward you and you couldn’t understand why it stopped just in time? That was me, too. I’ve been secretly using my powers to help and protect you all along.” He added, quietly, “I would have fixed your nose after the accident, but by the time I found out about it, you were already in the hospital and the doctors had seen you . . .”

“It’s okay,” Reita said. “I kinda like the noseband. It gives me some personal style.” He gave Uruha a small smile. “So . . . you REALLY have magical powers? Your uncles, too?”

“I’m the one who got you down from that thing,” Uruha said. “And I’ll give you a demonstration . . .” He stepped away from Reita, made sure his friend’s eyes were on him, then he snapped and twirled, his black ritual outfit morphing into his red clubbing outfit. He snapped and twirled again, and it became casual wear – a T-shirt, hoodie, and jeans. A third time, and he returned to his original clothes.

“Damn,” Reita said. “Can you do that for me sometime?”

“You’re not mad?” Uruha said. “You saw everything, and yet, you don’t hate me?”

“Hate you?” Reita said. “What the hell, Uruha? You’re still my best friend. I’d still burn anyone who dared lay a finger on you to the ground.”

And then, Reita’s scene of the vision snapped into Uruha’s mind. He was . . . burning things to the ground. It was showing me that I’d still have his undying approval and support, he thought, no matter what. That I shouldn’t fear losing him if I signed.

“You’re the best friend anyone ever had, you know that?” Uruha said – and then, he saw Kai out of the corner of his eye. “Oh! There’s someone I want you to meet! I’m just sorry it had to be under these circumstances.”

Because, Uruha thought, everyone introduces their boyfriend to their best friend after they’ve both been kidnapped to ensure you sign yourself away to the Dark Lord, right?

“Reita, this is the man I’ve been dating, Kai. Kai, this is Reita. He’s been my best friend since I was a child.”

Reita sat up, slowly, and extended a hand to Kai. “Pleasure,” he said. “Uruha’s been talking a lot about you.”

“Likewise,” Kai said, sitting up to shake Reita’s hand. “I just wish it was somewhere more . . . friendly?”

“Hey! Are we missing a party back here?” said a voice nearby. Uruha turned, to see Aoi and Ruki, looking at him with concern.

“This is no fucking party,” Ruki said. He knelt next to the two mortals. “You’re all right? They didn’t do anything bad to you? I’m sorry – I didn’t know. I had no idea.”

“Dude!” Reita said. “That is a COOL look!”

Ruki looked shocked. “Um . . . thanks?”

“But, yes, we’re both all right,” Kai said. “A bit shaken, but unharmed. Thank you for asking.”

“I swear I had no fucking idea you were there,” Ruki said. “They hid you from me with concealment magic. If I had known I would have stopped the ritual in its tracks and freed you both. I don’t care how badly they needed Uruha to sign that book, dragging innocent mortals into it is the last fucking straw!”

Uruha looked surprised. “Last straw?”

Ruki sighed. “Look . . . I’ve kinda been at odds with all this for awhile. All the things I’m being told by the priests – that we should just respect tradition and keep doing things the way they’ve always been done, no matter what – it clashes with what I’ve been reading, and studying, and . . .” He glanced at the two mortals. “Should I be talking about this in front of them?”

“They’re cool,” Uruha said. “They won’t say anything to anyone.”

“Not a word,” Reita said.

“I’m the last person to rat out people like you, believe me,” Kai said.

“Anyway,” Ruki continued. “It clashes with what I hear from the Dark Lord himself, when I meditate. He doesn’t WANT us to just follow dogma. He wants his witches and warlocks to be like HIM – proud, rebellious and individualistic. Ritual is supposed to be a tool to unlock a magic user’s potential and expand their powers – not something to do because it’s always been done. So I’ve been thinking, once I get my third degree . . .” He glanced around to see if any higher-ups were still hanging around.

“It’s okay,” Aoi said. “They’ve all gone to the tavern. Which is where the three of us are supposed to be, by the way.”

“Fuck them!” Ruki said. “We’ll go when we’re ready to go! Anyway, once I get my third degree . . . I want to start . . . an entirely new order. I want to break from Templi Malum and start a group founded on individualism, not empty groupthink.”

Uruha jumped up and hugged his friend. “That’s an awesome idea. And I’ll support you. If anyone can do it, it’s you. You have the charisma, and the talent . . . heck, all the kids in our group are in love with you . . .”

And then, Ruki’s segment of the vision popped into Uruha’s head. Ruki and two little children, seemingly leading a parade . . .

That’s what I was seeing, he thought. Ruki using his glamor and charisma to lead an exodus out of Templi Malum – and the kids will be the primary ones following him.

The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place . . . Reita’s support of him, Kai’s hatred of his witch-hunting family, Aoi’s desire to follow a dream in the mortal world, Ruki’s need to break away from the dogma and form a new order . . .

And then, he saw himself, bound and blinded. I’m bound in this vision, he thought, because . . . I’ve been restricted by the expectations put on me by others, haven’t I? I’ve been restricted by the empty traditions Ruki hates . . .

I free myself, he thought, by realizing my ultimate role in all this. Maybe they interpreted the prophecy wrong. Maybe my ultimate destiny isn’t to save everyone from a Nephilim, it’s something else . . .

Suddenly, he saw the puzzle as a whole, and he knew what it was.

“I’m going with you,” he told Ruki. “And I’m going to tell you one more thing we’re going to do. We’re going to make peace between the human and witch worlds. We’ll be a bridge. No, I will be the bridge. I’m the Child of Two Worlds, aren’t I?” And then, he remembered Aoi was there. He quickly whirled toward his other friend. “I can explain that! I . . .”

“Heard it,” Aoi said.

Uruha looked surprised. “You did?”

“Mr. High Priest-Sama didn’t realize I was in the bubble he cast. I was dancing right by the altar, remember?”

“But if I can somehow use my status in both worlds to convince both sides they don’t need to fear each other, that we’re different, but still only human, well . . .” He gave the group a big smile. “I can eliminate their need to send witch hunters after us. There will be no more need for us to fear a Nephilim.”

“Hey, I’m with you,” Aoi said. “I’m getting sick of their bullshit, too – and what they pulled with these two guys is PURE bullshit. Count me in!”

“We’re gonna have the most ass-kicking coven ever,” Ruki said. “And it’s gonna be called . . .” He thought for a moment. “Heresy.”

“Heresy?” Uruha said.

“It means daring to speak your own truth, even if others consider what you say evil.”

“I like!” Aoi said. “Heresy! WHOO!”

“Keep your fucking big mouth shut about it!” Ruki said. “I don’t want anyone knowing before I do it!”

Uruha turned toward the two mortals. “Please . . . please, keep quiet about this . . .”

“You know I won’t say a word,” Reita said. “And you have my support in this. You know it!”

Kai hugged Uruha, and whispered in his ear, “If I can help . . . I can re-establish contact with my relatives. I can get them to call off the witch hunters . . .”

Uruha knew why Kai was whispering. His lover’s heritage had to stay a secret between them. If Ruki and Aoi knew, they wouldn’t trust him.

“Thank you,” Uruha whispered back. “That . . . that means a lot.” He pulled away and said, out loud, “I need to get you two home. Get some rest – and please, text me later and let me know you’re still okay.”

“Of course I will,” Kai said. “And . . . can we get together tomorrow night?”

“I’d love it,” Uruha said.

Meanwhile, Reita had formally introduced himself to the other two warlocks. “We need to get together and have a real birthday party for Uruha,” he said. “Not this . . . warlock thing.”

“I actually like that idea,” Aoi said. “Lemme give you my number.”

Reita looked surprised. “You use phones?”

“Doesn’t Uruha?”

“Well, yeah, but I didn’t know he was . . .”

“We need to use Twitter too, my dude,” Aoi said.

“Yes, and yours is full of babbling nonsense,” Ruki said. He paused. “I’m giving you my number, too. And then, we’ve got to get Uruha out of here. They expect him at the reception – and I have to host the fucking thing, since I was officiant.”

Aoi slapped Ruki’s back. “The Host with the Most is the Priest of the Beast!” he said.

Ruki facepalmed. “Why am I fucking friends with you?” he said.

“Because you can’t resist me,” Aoi replied.

“Um, how are we gonna get home from here?” Reita said.

“Teleportation spell,” Ruki said. “Which, by the way, Uruha can perform himself now. It’s one of the things you can only do after you sign the Book.”

“I can?” Uruha said, surprised, as he approached the others hand-in-hand with Kai. “Oh, yeah, I can!”

After numbers were exchanged, Uruha gave Reita and Kai each one last hug, put a hand on each man’s shoulders, envisioned his place of residence in his mind and snapped. They would both end up on the street in front of their apartment buildings.

“Okay, they’re home safe,” Uruha said. “Let’s go.”

“Just so everyone knows,” Ruki said, “I’m not dealing with an all-nighter. I have work in the morning. I’m kicking everyone out before the party turns into a fucking orgy.”

“What, you’re afraid Byou’s gonna want to jump you?” Aoi said.

“FUCK OFF, AOI!” Ruki snapped.

Uruha took one last glance behind him at the book on the altar as they walked out of the temple. The struggle is over, he thought. I lost – I had my free will stolen from me. But in the long run, I’m going to win. We all are. I’m going to claim my destiny – on MY terms.

He walked out of the temple, head held high.

* * *

EPILOGUE

Uruha’s life became a lot calmer once his Dark Baptism was over.

He was troubled by no more visions. He wasn’t pressured by anyone anymore. He went about his daily business calmly, watching the store, even managing to start writing again. (Now that he knew the full truth, Reita asked him why he didn’t use his powers to get his books professionally published. Uruha replied that he didn’t want to have an unfair advantage over mortal writers – that artistic success was something in life that should be earned.)

His relationship with his uncles was surprisingly unstrained following the Dark Baptism – mostly because they showed immediate and complete remorse for what happened. In fact, Uncle Atsushi – usually chilly and restrained – came up to Uruha at the reception and hugged him.

“I did what I had to do,” he whispered to his nephew. “I was terrified of what Mendes-sama would do to you if you didn’t sign. He wasn’t just going to wipe your memory of the witch world and let you go on happily as a mortal – he was going to make you pay terribly for rejecting your destiny.”

“It’s all right, Uncle,” Uruha whispered back. “I knew you were scared. Just . . . please, don’t do anything like that again. Mortals are off-limits, especially ones who are close to me.”

“You . . . do really like that mortal man, don’t you?”

“With everything I’ve got.”

“Then . . . I won’t stand in your way.”

And, indeed, his uncles didn’t. Uruha’s relationship with Kai continued to flourish – his lover knowing the truth actually made their bond deeper and stronger. It did trouble Uruha a bit that now that he was a fully signed warlock, he’d been granted immortality, and he would age much slower than a mortal – while Kai would age and die. But it made him all the more determined to cherish every moment they had together.

Ruki entered the training program for third degree priestly initiation, and after the traditional year and a day period, he was finally made a fully ordained magister, capable of starting his own group.

The day before his investiture, Uruha had an announcement of his own to make – he and Kai were moving in together.

“You sure about that?” Aoi said to Kai as they all met up in a bar. “This one can be a bit wild.”

“I think I can handle him by now,” Kai said with a big smile.

“You should talk,” Ruki said.

“Hey, I’m a settled-down man now!” Aoi said. “Kazuki and I will be officially together for six months next week! And I’m registered for acting classes!”

“You ARE?” Uruha said. “That’s GREAT!”

“Gotta be ready to go on auditions as soon as our own group is established! I’m taking advantage of being away from the hard-ass rules right away!”

“Hey, are you gonna remember me when you’re famous?” Reita said.

“You’re one of the first people I’m going to thank in my awards speech,” Aoi replied.

“Like they’re going to give you an award right off?” Ruki said.

“They won’t be able to resist me,” Aoi replied.

“Well, remember, our first priority is going to be getting the group started,” Ruki said. “THEN we can worry about career opportunities.”

“And what about Byou?” Aoi said. “Is HE a priority?”

“Fuck off, Aoi!”

“I know for a FACT that Kazuki said the two of you . . .”

“None of your fucking business!” Ruki said. Then, after a pause. “But since you HAVE to know, yes, he IS taking me out the day after the ceremony. Happy?”

“Yep,” Aoi said. He shielded his face from Ruki and mouthed to the others, “There’s been a lot more dates than that.”

“Anyway,” Ruki said, “A toast to what happens to tomorrow. To Heresy.” He raised his glass.

“To Heresy,” they all said, clinking against his.

“And to the future,” Uruha said. “May we all make it our own.”

I’m in control of my life now, he thought. And I’ll be even more in control in the future. I’m seizing my destiny for all it’s worth.

His vision was coming true in the best possible way. It was pointing the way to a better future.


End file.
